


Jealousy

by rainsrabble



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 59,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsrabble/pseuds/rainsrabble
Summary: "Oh come on Granger, don't be such a stick in the mud. Your precious Gryffindor ex isn't hesitating to string your heart out for everyone to see. He doesn't care that you are being humiliated. He doesn't care that everyone is spreading horrible rumors about you. All I'm suggesting is to give him a bit of his own back," he paused then, his voice going softer, suggestive. "I know you have it in you, I've seen you in action. Rita Skeeter, Umbridge, Me…you don't hesitate to serve it up when someone's got it coming. And he's got it coming Granger."





	1. The Best Laid Plans

Hermione hated gossip. But even so one couldn't help but hear about the latest Malfoy altercation that had manifested itself right in the middle of the entrance hall. Everyone was talking and speculating. Of course, no one knew exactly what the argument was about due to an airtight silencing charm that resisted all attempts at infiltration. But it was the third such heated exchange between father and son that had occurred within the month. Needless to say prying minds wanted to know and debate was rampant about what could have caused such a serious breach in family relations.

Despite the honest fact that she could care less about any Malfoy inner dealings, as long as it didn't directly affect her and her friends of course, Hermione found herself oddly grateful for this latest round of Hogwarts intrigue. The fact of the matter was it distracted the rabid gossip hounds from her own personal turmoil that had previously been the talk of the halls. After years of obliviousness, or perhaps shyness on Ron's part, two of the Golden three had become a couple. Apparently, everyone had been waiting on tenterhooks for Ron to make his move and Hermione had been overwhelmed by all the gushiness and attention she had received from everyone. For eight weeks, they had been the perfect couple, ooshy and happy.

Two weeks ago, however, the honeymoon over so to speak, the fighting began. Everything had rapidly spiraled downhill finally ending in a spectacular break-up. Everyone had thought it temporary, Hermione included, until Ron had come to breakfast with Padma Patil the very next morning. To say she was hurt would be a mammoth understatement. After five minutes of watching them grope each other at the Gryffindor table Hermione had fled to the safety of the girls’ bathroom and did not come out all afternoon. Thank goodness it had been Saturday and she hadn't missed any classes.

She had remained closeted up all weekend, speaking to no one. Monday, however, was inevitable and she had to go to classes. Ron and Padma walked the halls twined around each other like vines. Hermione wanted to be sick. Especially when she got wind of the rumor flying the halls in her absence. It had been put around that the reason that Ron had broken up with her was because she wouldn't sleep with him, and everyone knew that Padma would. They certainly were making no effort to hide their disgusting public displays. Her lack of response over the weekend had allowed the rumor to grow unchecked and Hermione wanted to bury her head in Harry's shoulder to avoid the sympathetic pitying looks directed her way amongst whispers and shaking heads.

Harry, loyal and true, had shown up at her shoulder first thing Monday morning and had not mentioned one word about the whole thing. After three classes Hermione had gently said that she would be fine, if Harry wanted to hang with Ron for a little while. He had frowned, and gotten the wrinkle between his brows that let her know that he was going to be completely honest with her. "I don't want to be a third wheel."

"Harry don't be silly, Ron and I never thought of you that way."

"You didn't make me feel that way either…but things are different now." He had said, smiling at her and she had managed to smile back. But inside she was seething. It looked like Ron had apparently abandoned more than one friend. He continued to be distant from Harry and revoltingly touchy feely with his new girlfriend. They always seemed to be together. Hermione was more than grateful that there was something to distract the Hogwarts gossip hounds, because she didn't know how much more she could take.

 

* * *

 

 

Draco Malfoy swaggered down the hallways with as much fanfare as he could manage, making sure that his robes billowed as impressively as possible. This attitude effectively curtailed all hesitant overtures of company or questions. As expected other students shied away from him and did not pester him. He certainly was in no mood for it. He was still quite mad actually. Even hours after the fight with his father he was still just bursting at the seams, his body begging to do some type of violence. A candidate for Head Boy did not do damage to other students so Draco was on his way to the pitch for a little flying. Nothing managed to cool him off faster than rushing through the air on a broomstick.

His father was an idiot. Draco loosened his grip on his broomstick before he damaged it and slowed his step. No need to look like he was running. Malfoys did not run through the halls. Not only had his sorry excuse for a father completely butchered the family name with his short-sighted foolishness he also refused to admit it. He kept insisting that all the Voldemort garbage was the right way to go. Any simpleton could see that old Voldie was as loopy as a Weasley's broom and unstable to boot. Perhaps he had been an intelligent strategist once, but it was perfectly clear to anyone who took their heads out of their rears to look that the last 16 years had left him three lengths short of a broomstick.

Not to mention the fact that his whole tower of beliefs was short sighted and stupid. Eradicate all Muggle-borns and Mudbloods? Anybody with any sense knew that without peasants there would be no royalty. Likewise, if everyone were pureblooded, what would be the value of it? What would make purebloods exceptional? All the while Voldemort was raving about the superiority of the Wizard Race he was demanding that high class Pureblood Wizards grovel in the mud. If they didn't do what they were told, Voldemort killed them. Two-faced idiot. If he couldn't even adhere to his own standards then the old bat was hardly fit to be giving orders to a Malfoy.

This latest fight was just the icing on the cake. "It's time you proposed to Miss Parkinson. You have a duty to this family. As your father, I have the right to choose who to let into this family…" Blah Blah Blah. Like Lucius' track record of great decisions qualified him to make life decisions for Draco. What he really needed was to do something drastic. Something that made a political statement, set his values apart from his father, and put the slimy Git in his place.

He needed to show his father and the world that Malfoys answered to no one. He needed to distance his family's name from Voldemort. And he needed to do it quickly. The longer he let this go on the worse the damage was. He needed to make it clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was his own man.

His eyes narrowed as they fell on one slender curly haired girl as she left the library with a handful of books. A plan was quickly forming in his clever mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione hurried out of the library with her head down, clutching her books comfortingly to her chest. Perhaps she would make it back to her dorm before everyone else and she could climb into bed and pretend sleep before everyone else arrived. Maybe she really would fall asleep and she would have to listen to any whispered gossip or “poor Hermione” drivel.

Focused on her destination Hermione paid no attention to her surroundings, knowing the way by heart. Needless to say it was a complete and total shock when she smashed into a stone wall and rebounded onto her bum with a thud. She looked up slowly, horror washing over her as her eyes encountered crisp black robes and then stormy grey eyes. It took a moment before her eyes focused enough to take in his entire face. Without his trademark sneer she almost didn't recognize his handsome features. The worst luck, to run into Malfoy of all people!

She scrambled hastily to her feet, brushing the dust off of her robe and apologizing before she could catch her tongue. Apologizing to Malfoy was a big no no, even if she had run into him. Surely he would blow things way out of proportion, say she ought to be apologizing for running into her betters, make some low comment about how she belonged on the ground in the dirt, or squawk about her daring to touch his person and all other manner of mean things. After all, it just came natural to him. She deliberately forced her lips together and looked up at him silently. She was surprised to see him regarding her just as silently. An inscrutable look on his face. A poker face her dad would have called it. And in that moment Hermione would have given good money to know just what he was thinking of.

When he took a step towards her Hermione had to fight the impulse to step back. She would not let this albino ferret intimidate her. "I was looking for you." He said softly, in a low voice she could barely hear. He opened the classroom door next to him and gestured inside. "After you."

Politeness

From a Malfoy

To a Muggleborn.

Something was definitely up. The smart thing would be to walk away, just turn an about face and dismiss him completely. His fury would be glorious and it would keep her out of whatever trouble Malfoy was inevitably trying to land her in. That would be wise. Yet she hesitated, her curiosity rampant. What in the world could he have to discuss with her? Not to mention that it would be bad manners to just walk away. Besides, what if he needed help? Everyone knew he was fighting with his father.

She let out a snort. He would never ask for help from the likes of her. He might order her to lick his boots. But never ever would he ask for help from a lowly creature like herself. Still, without too much thought of why she was agreeing to closet herself in a deserted classroom with the enemy she whipped out her wand and walked past him inside, head held high. It was the DADA classroom and she walked to the desk, turning, to face him. "Well Malfoy? What can I do for you?"

She made no effort to hide the wand held in front of her defensively. He let out a snort, very similar to hers earlier.

"What can you do for me?" He gave her his patented condescending smirk, his voice more normal. Cultured drawling tones in a silky voice that made the Quidditch groupies of Hogwarts swoon. That would be everyone but her, who had no interest whatsoever in Quidditch or the Slytherin Seeker. He leaned one hip casually against the student desk behind him and crossed his arms across his chest. "The real question is: what can I do for you?"

Something in that statement was not quite right. If she didn't know better she would think it was innuendo.

But that was impossible.

This was after all Malfoy. The Draco Malfoy. But when his smirk grew and he deliberately ran his eyes from her toes to her eyes, slowly, willfully. Hermione decided she'd had enough. Who knew what went on in that sick twisted mind of his but she had too much on her plate right now for this…this….whatever this was.

"I don't have time for this." She said, making sure to use her most grating know it all voice, walking past him briskly. "Go find someone else to bother."

She jumped in her skin when he stopped her by grasping her arm lightly. She could feel the warmth of his fingers right through her robes. Had he ever touched her?

"Wait." She looked up at him inquisitively. "Don't go."

When did his eyes get so beautiful? They were a kaleidoscope of silvers and blues that shifted in the dim light like a storm brewing over the ocean. She'd never really paid attention. She never bothered to notice anything besides his condescending words, his hateful sneer that was standard around her. But he wasn't wearing it now. And his words were void of any demeaning undertone. She jerked back from his touch, way too late to appear instinctive and his lips curled into a slow smile.

"Well, spit it out already. What on earth were you searching for me for?"

He stepped away from her and paced to the window before he spoke and she hated that she didn't take the opportunity to just leave.

"It's come to my attention that you've been on the receiving end of some very nasty gossip. Your penniless beggar has stomped on your heart, publicly, and is currently parading his new girlfriend in front of your face. She is of course too dense to know it's all a ploy to make you horribly jealous. Which based on your avoidance of the whole situation I'd bet that you are."

Color suffused her face as he talked and Hermione felt fresh new waves of humiliation. If Malfoy knew the dirty details, then the gossip was even more widespread than she had thought.

"There a point to this conversation Malfoy? Because I really don't see how any of that is your business." She bit out tartly. Considering turning and walking out she waited for his reply, really quite curious about what would come out of that mouth next.

"Well I'm making it my business because I can help you."

Hermione let out another snort. He brought out all of her unladylike qualities. Her mother would be appalled. "What could you possibly do to help me?"

"The facts are these. It's pathetically obvious that you want poor boy back despite the lousy way he has treated you. The spineless carrot is enjoying all the attention and is willing to let you suffer in order to continue to receive it. The best plan to rectify the situation is to draw attention on yourself and away from him. Make yourself irresistibly attractive by dating someone else desirable and also make boy toy incredibly jealous. Give me free rein and I'll have the Weasel begging on his knees to have you back. In which case you can either have him or dismiss him, but either way your reputation and pride are salvaged."

Hermione shook her head sharply, ashamed of herself. Ashamed, because for a moment his idea had sounded as if it had promise. For a split second, she had pictured the look on Ron's face as she turned tables on him and rubbed her new Beau in his face.

"That is not the Best Plan. It's the Slytherin Plan. Gryffindor's don't operate that way." She said snottily, turning to walk away.

"Oh come on Granger, don't be such a stick in the mud. Your precious Gryffindor ex isn't hesitating to string your heart out for everyone to see. He doesn't care that you are being humiliated. He doesn't care that everyone is spreading horrible rumors about you. All I'm suggesting is to give him a bit of his own back." He paused then, his voice going softer, suggestive. "I know you have it in you, I've seen you in action. Rita Skeeter, Umbridge, Me…you don't hesitate to serve it up when someone's got it coming. And he's got it coming Granger."

Just what did he know about Rita Skeeter? She had thought that was a secret. And how much did he know about the whole Umbridge situation?

Ron did have it coming. But she really didn't have the resources to pull off a plan like that.

"Don't be ridiculous Malfoy, I'm not going to go rope a boyfriend, lie to him, pretend I'm in love with him, and then dump him because I've used him all I can. That's not how I operate. I don't use people. That is what I mean by the Slytherin way."

"But what if the bloke knew you were using him?"

Hermione turned back to him, it was ridiculous to be having a conversation with her back turned. "I suppose you have a boyfriend all picked out for me then?"

"Well yes as a matter of fact I do." He looked entirely too smug standing there, leaning comfortably against the window pane. Smug Malfoys never meant good things for Gryffindors.

"Oh, I just can't wait to hear this. Who Malfoy? Who would you recommend I use shamelessly to get a cheap thrill by humiliating someone I care about? Not that it wouldn't feel good mind you." She tagged on the end before she could help herself, the benefits of this plan sneaking back up to the forefront of her mind. It would feel so good to get back at Ron and teach him that he couldn't go around treating women that way. She didn't even want him back; she just wanted to be able to tell him to sod off, publicly.

"Why, me of course. One Draco Malfoy at your service."

 


	2. Insanity Must Be Contagious

Hermione gripped her wand more tightly. She snapped her mouth shut with a click and edged towards the door slowly. Malfoy had clearly lost his mind and must be treated with the utmost care, like a wild animal. He was just standing there, arms crossed over his rather broad chest, smirking like an idiot, clearly amused.

Hermione was not in any way amused.

"Granger!" He barked. "Are you trying to run away again? I had no idea Gryffindors were this skittish. Just hear me out, would you?"

"Malfoy, I don't need to listen to you. This is the dumbest plan you've ever had, including throwing in with Umbridge. Even if I did choose to go ahead with this idiocy, no one would ever believe it."

His face darkened with the mention of old frog lady. "Throwing in with Umbridge was not stupid. Malfoys always land on top." He took a deep breath and let it out. "It doesn't matter; I'm not here to argue with you. It will work; we'll make people believe it. Really Granger, can you think of anything worse to do to Weasley than date me?"

"You do have a point Malfoy. That would be spectacularly funny. But it would hurt Harry too and I'm not interested in doing that. I would never hurt Harry."

He frowned, obviously not used to Gryffindor loyalty.

"I admit the boy wonder wouldn't be happy about it. But he trusts your judgment, he's a true friend to you, and wants you to be happy. It's disgusting. But he'll accept it. I can't say we'll be civil to each other, but I won't hex him except in self-defense, and I will try not to deliberately provoke him."

"Dating me will provoke him."

"Like I said I reserve the right to defend myself."

Hermione quit backing up for the door and closed her eyes so she could think. He really did seem serious. This had to be some sort of joke. But she just kept remembering how she had felt that day when Ron had walked in with his new girlfriend and then promptly stuck his tongue down her throat. All the constant making out, punctuated with Ron's sly smiles. He knew he was getting to her. All the mean-spirited rumors flying around. Harry would understand. But he would never believe it, not really. Neither would anyone else.

"I know what you're thinking." Her eyes snapped open and found him way to close to her. Only a couple feet away, she hadn't heard him move. She ought to know better than to close her eyes to a Malfoy. "No one will believe it. But we'll take it slow, make it realistic."

"Malfoy, I'm not about to be another one of your tarts. You go through women like water. That would be even more embarrassing than my current situation. Thank you very much." She held up her chin. He obviously thought that she was stupid.

"Clever girl you are. It won't work if everybody just feels more sorry for you than they already do. I intend to make it crystal clear to the masses that you're different. I'll eventually declare for you publicly. Which, by the way, I have never ever done. I've never called anybody my girlfriend. You'll be the girl who finally bagged Draco Malfoy. When it's done you can be the one to break it off and I will be suitably heartbroken."

He was painting a very temping picture. Right now everyone was laughing behind her back because she couldn't hold on to a boyfriend. She was too frigid and boring for anyone to like her. Draco Malfoy was definitely in demand. He had girls chasing him like he was some sort of rock star. Despite his dubious family connections. Really girls her age had no taste or discretion.

"This doesn't make any sense Malfoy, why would you want to do this?"

"I have my reasons. Are you in or out?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she took a step towards him. "No way ferret. You're going to have to convince me of your reasons or the deals off."

He looked at her for one long inscrutable moment. This close to him it became painfully clear just how tall he had gotten, he towered over her 5'7 frame. And when had he gotten so muscular?

"If I tell you why, and it makes sense, you'll agree."

"I will consider it, if you have an excellent reason."

He sighed and waved at a seat. She hesitated a moment before lowering her wand and sitting down. If she was going to be "dating" him she wouldn't be able to hold her wand in front of her at all times as proper Gryffendor/Slytherin protocol dictated. There would have to be some trust involved. Very little trust, but some.

"I've had a disagreement with my father. His political alliances are destroying my family name. I've decided that I need to get it back on track and the best way to do that is to completely distance myself from all of my fathers' beliefs." He began to pace slowly, gesturing with one hand. As if he was lecturing. "Seriously dating a muggle Witch would make a huge statement, completely believable, because it's not obvious."

Okay. That actually did make sense.

"Why me?"

"I chose you for several reasons." He turned to face her, ticking off one finger. "You have your own agenda so there won't be any emotional entanglements. You're intelligent and beautiful so it's plausible that I'd date you. You're clever enough to pull this whole thing off. And you're a very public example of a muggle-born because of your association with Harry Potter. This would make the papers."

He thought she was beautiful. She could feel her face heat up and mentally prayed that she wasn't blushing too much. No one had ever called her beautiful. Well except her mother, which sooo didn't count.

"You can't date other girls; the rampant sex has to stop. I won't be embarrassed by you cheating on me."

"Done. You can never tell anyone why you dated me, even when it's over and done with. Including Harry Potter and the Weasel."

"Fine, no crude talks about me to your friends. You won't tell people you slept with me or brag about my bra size or anything else embarrassing."

"You don't want people to think we slept together?"

She bit her lip and thought about it. Part of her problem was that people thought she was a prude. "Maybe, I'll think about it. But I won't have you blabbing details to all the Slytherins or something like that."

"Fine. You'll need to attend some Slytherin events, sit a few times at my table, and we should probably start sitting together in classes too."

"I'm not going to do all of that. You can sit with the Gryffindors."

"We'll divide it up. And I'll make the first overture, today; at dinner."

"What kind of overture?"

"I'll just come by at dinner and ask you to walk with me or something. You can put up a token fuss, which will be expected, but then you will get up and come with me. Nothing overly outrageous to start with."

"Fine, we'll work out the details as we go. I reserve the right to call the whole thing off at any time, for any reason. However, the details will remain between us. I definitely don't want this to get out." Hermione held out her hand to shake.

"Deal." Concurred Malfoy, shaking her hand firmly.

* * *

Hermione was increasingly nervous at dinner. She had to restrain herself from glancing over at the Slytherin table. Harry was on one side; he was in one of his brooding moods and didn't have much to say. Ginny was on the other side, deep in conversation with her friends. There was nowhere for her to look except in front of her, where Ron Weasley sat with Padma Patil. He kept running his hand over her thigh, it was terribly obvious, and they kept sharing bites of their food with each other. Why didn't they ever eat at the Ravenclaw table? She mostly kept her eyes on her plate.

It was a relief when Ginny leaned over to say something to her, even if her words only riled up the nervousness in her stomach. "Draco Malfoy is staring at you."

Hermione turned sharply, glancing over her shoulder, not surprised to find grey eyes leveled on her. "Don't be ridiculous." She said turning back. "He's staring at someone else I'm sure."

"No, he is staring at you. He has been since you walked in." Hermione shrugged and suppressed a smile. It looked like Malfoy was going to make good on his deal and was smart enough to lay down at least some groundwork before approaching her table, which took some balls. Slytherins weren't exactly welcome. Even though she was the one being approached, she had agreed to leave with him which was going to cause some serious uproar at her table.

Harry leaned over and murmured that he had detention with Snape before leaving her to finish her last biscuit. He had no sooner disappeared behind the swinging door when the hall went suddenly deathly silent. It was so quiet that she could hear his boot heels as he approached her table. He slid into Harry's spot, coming into her line of vision, straddling the bench seat, his body turned towards hers. Just as casual as if he sat at the Gryffindor table every day. She snuck a glance at the staff table and was amused to find Snape's mouth literally hanging open.

"Hey Gorgeous. What are you doing after dinner?"

Okay, laying it on way too thick. She peeked at Ron, saw his face getting redder and glanced away, finding herself looking at Malfoy instead. "Uhm, I have some studying to do. Professor McGonagall assigned a very in depth essay and I have some charms work to finish up…"

"Oh that's no fun, come fly with me."

Fly? Everyone knew she didn't fly.

"Uhm, Draco…" Okay that sounded weird coming off her tongue. "I really have a lot I need to get done tonight."

She jumped and squeaked when he placed one warm hand possessively at her waist and leaned in closer to her. She had to fight every instinct she had not to lean away, slap his hand, squeal like a, like a, well like a girl.

"Oh, come on. We both know you're ages ahead in class. What are a couple hours?" His breath was warm on her cheek and she knew she was blushing a sunset. "Come fly with me."

Hermione leapt to her feet just to get away from his disturbing touch. He got to his feet much more slowly, giving her a slow sultry smile that ought to be illegal and certainly had never been leveled in her direction. "After you," he gestured like he was some kind of gentleman and she rushed from the hall. Really her exit was less than graceful but it was all that she could manage not to run.

He caught up with her quickly, lengthening his long stride so he wouldn't have to run. He even managed to get to the door in enough time to open it for her without seeming to rush at all. The hall was blessedly empty but she kept her voice low anyway, even though she was certain no one could hear over the buzz of conversation that sparked up in the hall the minute the door closed. "Gorgeous? You've got to be kidding."

"Hermione sounds weird; I have to call you something."

"Well think of something else." She hissed. "And Flying? Everyone knows I don't fly. I don't even fly with Harry or Ron."

"I know! That's what makes it so delicious. You should have seen the look on Weasleys' face when you got up. I thought he was going to vomit slugs again." He turned down a corridor and she followed just so she could continue with their argument, though the smart thing would be to go straight to her dormitory. "Granger, we've really got to work on your acting ability. You can't act all skittish like that when I touch you or no one will ever buy this."

He turned again and she had to hurry to keep up with his long ass legs.

"Malfoy, slow down!" She panted.

"Draco."

"Yeah, whatever. We agreed no groping."

He stopped suddenly, head swiveling like a raven to look at her.

"Obviously, you've never been groped."

He started walking again, his stride notably shortened. "Some casual touching is going to be necessary."

She snorted. Even though he was right. But still, having him touch her like that in front of her friends was, to say the least, unsettling.

"We will have to practice."

What! Her earlier assumption was correct. Malfoy had completely lost his mind.

She was just about to tell him so when he pushed open two double doors and walked out on the Quidditch pitch. She hadn't even realized one could get to the pitch from the castle. "Malfoy, just what are we doing out here?"

"Draco." He corrected, pulling out his wand and holding his arm out. "Accio Broom."

"Make no mistake about it Malfoy; there is no way in hell that I'm climbing on a broomstick with you of all people."

His broom flew neatly into his palm and he turned, stalking towards her. "It's Draco. If we are going to make this work, then there can't be inconsistencies in what we say and do. You never know who is watching. So, you call me Draco, I'll call you Hermione, and we do what we say we are going to do. Get your uptight Gryffindor ass on the broom."

"No" She said mutinously, fear boiling up in her middle. There were few things that she feared and flying was one of them.

"Hermione." He hissed, emphasizing her name, his face twisted into his trademark sneer. "I would be willing to bet the Malfoy fortunes that as we speak people are finding excuses to make their way down to the pitch." He straddled the broom and she hesitantly made her way towards him.

"I've never ridden with anyone." She admitted. "How do I sit?"

His features evened out and he gestured to his broom. "You can sit facing out, like you're riding sidesaddle, you can sit facing forward and hold onto the grip, or you can face me."

"Which way is safest?"

"You'll probably be sturdiest if you face me and hold on around my waist. Any way you sit you'll be safe, I promise not to let you fall."

"You fly like a maniac."

"That's Quiddich, I'll fly safe as a magic carpet, promise."

She took a deep breath and slid one leg over the broomstick. She had to pull her robes up slightly to keep from getting tangled. She balanced her bum on the stick but didn't know what to do with her hands. He took her arms and wrapped them around his waist. She blushed at being so close to him but he was all business, scooting forward slightly. "Cross your ankles, and lay your head down so I can see."

She lay her head down lightly on his shoulder, and kept her hands light on his sides, but she gripped the broomstick between her thighs as tight as she could. She squeezed her eyes shut and chanted in her head over and over. He won't let me fall, it's just a broomstick. His arms came around her to grip the stick and she took a deep shuddering breath. He smelled nice, woodsy and clean. She concentrated on the feel of smooth muscles bunching under her hands, the nice way he smelled, the warmth of his skin under her cheek. Anything but flying on a twig a hundred feet in the air.

When he pushed off the ground into the air she screamed, literally squealed, and grabbed onto him as tight as she could. She buried her head in the crook of his throat and took deep shuddering breaths trying to calm herself down. But she could feel the rush of the air around her and knew they were nowhere close to the ground. She opened her eyes, just a slit and looked down at the pitch below her. She screamed again, clamping her eyes shut and clutching Malfoy like the lifeline he was.

She jumped in her seat, about upsetting the broom, when she felt one soothing hand run down her back. "Relax Granger." He said, "No wonder you can't fly, you can't even open your eyes. I was right too; I can make out Creevy, Zabini, a couple of fourth years, and the she-weasel in the stands. Nosy buggers."

"Just get me out of here, so you can land this thing." She begged against his throat.

She felt the broom tilt, turning and let out a very undignified whimper. "It's not so scary if you open your eyes. The worst part is the not knowing." He said even as his body leaned forward, causing the broom to speed up. Oh God Oh God! He won't crash. If I fall I'm taking him with me. The wind was rushing by her, making it impossible to pretend they were only hovering. They didn't fly far before she felt him slowing and tried to get her panicked breathing under control.

"Open up, Granger, look." Something in her tone made her open her eyes and she gasped. It was the lake, lit up in hues of gold and red as the sun sank down in a ball of fire. It was beautiful, it was breathtaking. She couldn't breathe. She realized they were sinking and felt a pang of regret. How bizarre was that?

They touched down lightly and Hermione scrambled off the broom with undue haste, as if it would shoot off again if she stayed on it for a moment longer. She stood on unsteady limbs as she looked over the sunset safely from the ground. How sad, it just wasn't the same. "Admit it Granger, it wasn't so awful and terrifying."

"It's Hermione." She corrected absently, turning and walking back towards the castle.


	3. The Fallout

To say Draco Malfoy was shocked would be an understatement. He stared after Granger long after she was gone from his view, a bemused expression on his face. His intention had been to infuriate Weasley and frighten Granger. His plan had of course worked beautifully. He had managed to bully the girl into flying with him and had no doubt that Weasley was gnashing his teeth, furious. Everyone knew that Granger had absolutely refused to sit a broomstick since first year flying lessons. The fact that she had trusted him to take her up and not Potter or Weasley would be all over the school like wildfire. That fact alone would lend credence to this whole plan in a way that no other event, including snogging in the great hall, could.

What he hadn't expected was for it to feel so…. nice. Her wrapped around him like a ribbon, her soft feminine curves pressed against him. Her hot breath on his neck, her soft whimpers echoing in his ears. Even now he could still smell her. A soft lavender womanly scent that was clinging to his robes. The experience had been unbelievably sensual.

Somehow, he didn't want her to walk away from this incident terrified. When he had seen the spectacular sunset he had wanted to share it with her. He had coaxed her to look with his most soothing voice and her face had been filled with wonder, her body relaxing against his. He hadn't missed the small pout of disappointment when he had lowered his broom to the ground as gently as possible.

He shook his head, hardening his features. What the hell was he doing? Standing here mooning over a girl when there were plans to make. It was a delicate undertaking, making this whole plan airtight and believable. He didn't doubt that the uptight little Gryffindor could keep her mouth shut. But her acting abilities needed definite work.

She had jumped like a startled doe when he had touched her just lightly. Anyone with half a brain could see that jumping out of her seat was more eagerness to get away from him than enthusiasm about flying. He hadn't planned to do a lot of public touching; everyone knew he wasn't a touchy-feely kind of guy. But there would need to be some, touching, people who were dating touched. She would need to lean into him, perhaps touch him back. Smile up at him like she was in love.

Nothing tawdry or lewd. Sucking face in the great hall would not be believable. It was the subtle stuff that people tended to believe. The gossip hounds would be dismantling every single caress and look shared. She definitely needed practice. He'd have to just set her down somewhere and touch her until she became accustomed to it.

He also needed to plan his next move. He didn't want to be too outrageous. Maybe studying in the library. They could sit real close together, share a book, whisper together about Arithmancy. And when Weasley and Potter inevitably showed up it would be delicious.

He decided to walk back, clear his head. It wasn't too long before he heard whispering and ducked behind a large oak. It was only a couple of dorky third years.

"I'm sure they came this way." The first whispered as they tried to pick stealthily by.

"We aren't going to find them."

"We need to see what they are up to, if we find them kissing…"

"No one would believe us anyway, we are talking about The Draco Malfoy and The Hermione Granger."

"I know…" The first girl's voice turned dreamy. "Isn't it romantic, like Romeo and Juliet?"

"Romeo and Juliet died." Snapped the second girl, as they moved out of earshot and Draco was grinning like an idiot when he stepped out from behind the tree. He had no idea who Juliet was but it was definitely going to be easier to convince people than he had thought. Still he couldn't get ahead of himself; they were just a couple of third year girls. This reality grounded thought did not detract from the bounce in his step as he made his way back to the castle. This was turning out to be even more fun than he had thought it would be.

* * *

Hermione's thoughts were far from kind as she stomped along, up the stairs. Praying there that she ran into no one. She definitely did not want to see anyone until she had a few minutes to think this through. This whole thing was completely ludicrous. She definitely needed to call it off. She didn't know what she had been thinking but spending extra time with Malfoy was bound to do more damage to her than it would Ron anyway.

Flying. The nerve of him.

But the Gods were not kind today, the minute she entered the common room she was almost assaulted by Parvati and Ginny.

"Hermione, did you really go flying with Draco Malfoy?"

"That is so romantic; I don't think he's ever asked anyone to fly with him."

"How long have you two been going out?"

"How come you never told me?"

She extracted her arm from Parvarti and let out a sigh. Her horrid little brain supplying her with nasty little thoughts that compared Parvati to her sister and found her to be much prettier than Padma. And nicer too. She knew she was being ridiculous and jealous and was just glad that she didn't open her mouth and spew such hatefulness. "Honestly Parvati, it was one little trip on a broomstick. I'm hardly going out with him."

"But you did go fly with him." Ron Weasley's voice cut through the girly chatter around her like a knife. The group fell silent as everyone waited to see the fallout. Hermione lifted her chin and felt her spine stiffen resolutely. I mean really, where did he get off speaking to her in that tone?

"Yes Ron, I did fly with him. Where is Harry?"

"Don't change the subject!" He roared advancing on her in a rather alarming way, his face as bright red as his hair. "What the hell were you doing zooming around on broomstick with Malfoy? What were you doing anywhere near Malfoy? Calling him Draco and batting your long eyelashes like one of his Quiddich whores!"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Harry beat her to it, apparently, he had been out of her line of vision. "Now wait just a minute Ron. You can be as mad as you want but you can't talk about Mione' like that!"

Ron held out a trembling, accusing finger. "She is fraternizing with the enemy!"

"But she's no whore." Harry replied quietly. "And she's not stupid either. I won't have you talking to her that way. I'm sure Hermione knows what she's doing."

Ron gaped like a fish and Hermione resisted the urge to reach out and hug Harry. He was such a good friend. "You, you…" He shuddered, turning away from them and shaking his head. "I can't believe you are siding with her on this. It's DRACO MALFOY. Ferret boy, death eater in training…"

Harry stepped forward, taking Ron's arm and leaning in to talk to him quietly. Hermione turned away to give them privacy and smiled nervously at the spectators standing around the room. Everyone looked away. She could hear the fierce whispering, occasionally a word getting through.

"Be reasonable."

"Malfoy!"

"She's your friend Ron."

Hermione would rather be boiled in squid ink than admit it but Malfoy was right. It did feel good to get such a reaction from Ron. She had to watch him every day flirt and kiss and canoodle with his new girlfriend. She went on one little broom ride and he lost his mind. She felt like she was on firm higher ground for the first time in two weeks. Yes, she was jealous, but at least she wasn't the one screaming in the common room about it.

Finally, he pulled away from Harry angrily and stomped over to where she was standing.

"I don't understand why you are so upset Ron, you are acting like a jealous ass." She tried to keep the smugness out of her voice. She really did.

"Jealous! I'm so not jealous. I'm your friend and I don't want you making a big mistake." He snarled in a very unfriendly way.

"My friend, you haven't acted like my friend since we broke up!" Her voice rose alarmingly and felt her composure eroding quickly.

"Well if you weren't being such an incredible Bitch about it!"

"Ron!"

"Enough!" Harry roared. He spun to Hermione. "Go sit down, you and I need to talk." He spun on Ron. "You have done enough to split this friendship up! You've been an incredible ass for days and now you need to go chill out somewhere before you say something that's unforgivable!" Ron opened his mouth to say something more and Harry's features softened, along with his voice. "Go upstairs. I'll talk to Mione' and be up. We'll play chess, hash it out."

For a moment, Ron looked as though he would protest. But he bit out a sour "fine" and stomped up the stairs. Harry scowled around the room and suddenly there was a flurry of activity as spectators suddenly found something else to do. When the room had sufficiently cleared, Harry came and sat down on one of the big squashy armchairs. Gesturing for her to take another. "You do know what you're doing don't you?"

Harry gave one of those little self-depreciating smiles that she loved, looking up at her through his messy hair, green eyes glinting. She took a seat next to him, smiling softly. "It's not as bad as everyone is making it out to be. Malfoy wants to be friends with me. It's not likely that anyone else is going to be head boy next year, and you know how big I am on inter-house relations."

"Malfoy's dangerous Hermione. Just keep that in mind."

"Oh please, he's harmless Harry. He's been fighting with his father; he isn't getting along with some of his friends. I think he's a bit lonely." Hermione avoided his eyes, knowing he would be able to see the lies in them. She felt like the lowest scum, lying to Harry.

"Lonely? Solitary creatures don't get lonely Mione'"

"Thanks for sticking up for me Harry, It means a lot."

He sat back, a smile on his lips. "Well of course. Ron was out of line. But he does have a bit of a point Hermione. I'm not dense enough to think that you can't take care of yourself, but you're a bit like Hagrid sometimes. Taking pity on those who don't deserve it. Dragon's don't make good pets."

* * *

Hermione managed to sneak upstairs when her bedmates weren't watching and fell exhausted onto her bed. She really ought to study but really she just wanted to sleep. She curled up around her pillow, burrowing down in the blankets. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy would smell so nice? Her eyes drifted shut. The feel of one strong hand traveling soothingly down her back, his honey smooth voice in her ear. The sunset had been so pretty. Maybe she should try flying again. There were better ways to travel, apparition, floo powder, airplanes. But it sure was pretty up there and not so bad when you had someone to hold onto.


	4. Unwelcome Observations

The library was wonderfully serene. The familiar musky scent of books. The comforting shadows dancing on the walls. The blessed silence.

Hermione made her way to a table and dropped her bag on a chair to mark her place. Not that there would be much traffic on a Saturday. The place would fill up with last minute studiers tomorrow, but today people were sleeping in and enjoying the sunshine. Hermione however needed to make up for going to bed early the night before.

Not that she had slept well. Her dreams had been plagued with broomsticks and grey eyes. Very disturbing, and hardly conducive to a good nights rest. Besides, she had needed to get out of her dorm before her roommates woke up, or worse, before Ginny woke.

She wanted to put off that heart to heart for as long as possible.

She might be able to fool Ron, and maybe even Harry, but Ginny was in a completely different league when it came to ferreting out the truth. No pun intended.

She browsed around the library, finding a book or two she needed, and three that she did not. But she had been meaning to read up on beetles, and the book on goblin culture looked intriguing. She very carefully kept the book entitled "The joys of flying" carefully concealed under the others, with the spine to her stomach. When she sat down she braced her bag up against the stack, if Ron were to see that it would open a whole new can of worms.

She pulled a stack of notebooks from her bag and spread them around her, digging out quills and her notes. She pushed a breath out between her lips and got down to serious business.

Two essays later, she was pouring over her Arithmancy notes and carefully outlining possible year end projects. It was important to get an early start so she could be certain to have plenty of time to produce her very best work. The professor had said that their final projects would be worth 40 percent of their grade.

When she felt someone slide in the seat next to her she finished the sentence she was writing before turning to say hello to Harry, who usually came to bully her out of library by noon for lunch. To her utter dismay it was not Harry who had shoved her cloak off the chair and onto the floor, pushed her backpack aside, and was thumbing through her stuff.

It was Malfoy

She felt her smile slip from her face like chalk in the rain. "The joys of flying…Hermione…you can't be serious!" He said pushing her other books off, causing them to tumble roughly to the table. "You can't learn that through a book."

"Hey!" She said, indignant on behalf of the books. No need to throw them around. "Anything can be learned from a book." She said snottily, putting her nose in the air and leaning back into her chair to escape his disturbing proximity. He refused to take a hint.

He slipped one arm over the back of her chair, his long fingers brushing her shoulder and leaned in close to her. "Is that right? When the time comes I suppose you will order 'The joys of Making Love' and you and the lucky bloke can cuddle and read it together."

Hermione blushed scarlet with the intimate turn of conversation and tried to jerk her shoulder free from his touch, but his fingers dug into her skin and held her firmly in place.

"Relax." He breathed in her ear.

"I can't." She hissed back, deliberately keeping herself from moving away from him. His arm was brushing against her shoulders, his body coiled close to hers. He smelled so good it ought to be a sin. Leather, expensive cologne, and the warm musky scent she had come to associate with fresh from Quidditch practice.

He leaned forward slightly, his chest rubbing up against her arm, and turned the page of her book.

"I can see why the Weasel turned you loose. You're wound so tight a good hug would break you in half."

"I am not." She whispered furiously in return, flipping her page back over so she could continue reading. That was best, just ignore him.

"You are stiff as a board; don't you ever loosen up?" He breathed against her skin. She pulled her book closer and bent over it, avoiding his eyes.

"I'm stiff because you're you. I'll have you know I was plenty relaxed around Ron." She replied haughtily in a low voice, surreptitiously peering over her book. Several people were watching them openly, the library gone deadly silent. Usually she craved that quiet, but not when the only reason for it was that ears were straining to hear her personal conversations. Really, didn't these people have lives of their own?

Nosey Busybodies.

"Perhaps too relaxed?" He replied, equally quiet, but even a bare whisper couldn't disguise the haughty taunting tone to his voice. He could even sneer in an undertone. "What I mean to say is that a lover's touch…" he ran one long finger up along her shoulder and grazed the bare skin on her neck…"should leave you excited and breathless. Something must have been missing if poor-boys touch left you pliant and relaxed."

Hermione silently cursed the rash of gooseflesh that broke out over her skin. Surely he noticed. Judging by his smug look, he had.

"That isn't what I meant. And it's really none of your business anyway."

The words on her page seemed to rearrange themselves and refused to make sense. She couldn't even concentrate well enough to read, he was too close. His scent was overwhelming. His words beyond disturbing. Had there been something wrong with the physical part of hers and Ron's relationship? After all, a single touch of his had never left her shaking and distracted.

It was just because it was Malfoy

She was disturbed and disgusted.

She was.

"The question is…" He continued, obviously paying her denial no mind. "Was the problem on his end, or yours?"

His finger moved along her throat, and down the curve of her breast, his large warm hand coming to rest at her waist. Hermione realized with a start that she had been holding her breath and took a shuddering lungful of air, glancing around apprehensively at the people around them. Could they hear the way her heart was beating erratically? Could he?

"It's my opinion that Weasley just doesn't know how to touch you properly. He doesn't have any passion, any fire."

"Hermione, it's time for lunch." Harry's flat cold voice intruded on the moment like a bucket of cold ice water in her face. Hermione jumped in her skin and looked up at Harry's angry face guiltily.

"Oh, right, lunch." She squeaked, shoveling things in her backpack and elbowing Malfoy sharply to get him to put some distance between them. Within 60 seconds she had jammed her stuff messily in her bag and was walking away with Harry. She didn't glance back at her table and she didn't say goodbye.

* * *

"I thought he wanted to be your friend." Harry said as they pushed their way out of the big double doors.

"He does want to be my friend." Hermione replied strait faced, firming her voice into her usual no nonsense tone that seemed to have deserted her when she was speaking to that presumptuous Git.

"Mione' are you blind? He was coming on to you!"

"Don't be ridiculous Harry, its Draco Malfoy we are talking about here. He certainly wouldn't lower himself to flirt with the likes of me." She replied in a self-aggrandizing way, peering out of the corner of her eye to see if her best friend of six years was buying a word of her bologna. Apparently not.

"I trust you completely Mione' but I just can't believe that you are being this naïve. The fact of the matter is that Malfoy has an agenda, he always has an agenda." Harry's face shifted into that granite hard look that he wore when he talked about you know who. "I'm not going to let him hurt you. I certainly can't tell you who to be friends with, and won't try, but if he crosses you than he is going to deal with me. And I'll expect that you don't tell me whose face I can smash in."

Hermione felt sick. She was on one hand warmed by Harry's fierce protectiveness. And at the same time she felt cold because she was lying to this wonderful loyal friend. She opened her mouth to tell him everything when Ron suddenly joined them from a side hallway, his girlfriend on his arm, and her mouth closed with a click.

At lunch, Hermione dug out her notebook and a muggle ink pen. She preferred them over quills, not necessarily because they were any easier to use than self-inking quills, but because they seemed to fit better in her tiny hand.

_Information and conversation about my personal life were not any part of our original understanding. Nor will it be in the future. Unnecessary physical contact will also not be tolerated. Meet me in the trophy room after dinner to discuss a more acceptable method of attaining desired results._

She transfigured the jagged notebook page into elegant parchment that even a Malfoy couldn't sneer at, before rolling her note up and putting it in one of the small letter tubes she kept in her bag. She left it unsigned, not necessarily out of fear of interception, but because she didn't know how to sign a letter addressed to a fellow conspirator whom she hated. It wasn't as if she could sign Love Always, Hermione like she usually did.

When the trio rose from their seats Hermione offered a quick apology because she needed to get to the owlery.

"I'll go with you Mione'" Ron suddenly offered out of the ether. "Malfoy might be lurking about ready to pounce on you again." He added darkly, squashing the hope that he wanted to spend time with her. Hermione nodded coolly and lead the way silently to the school owls. Angry with Ron's silence Hermione made no secret to hide who her message was bound for.

She tied the tube to one of the schools' owls, gave it a pat, and said quite clearly. "Would you be so kind as to deliver this to Draco Malfoy?"

"YOU'RE WRITING TO HIM NOW!" Ron exploded loudly, causing the owl to fly quickly away in a wave of feathers, hooting reproachfully.

Hermione rose calmly to her feet, secretly enjoying his rage. Didn't like a dose of his own medicine, did he?

"Ron, I can write to whoever I want to." She bent over the wipe the feathers off her robes.

"He's evil, He's Dangerous. He's Draco Malfoy!"

"He isn't evil Ron," She replied, hiding a grin and linking her arm with his to lead him out of the room, just like old times. "He is going to be head boy next year for sure, his grades are only second to mine. And if he is willing to make a go at friendship, then so am I."

He pulled away from her, looking at her with comical horror. "I forbid it." He said decisively. "I forbid you to see him, write to him, or even talk to him."

Hermione felt her familiar outrage at Ron overwhelm her. He was just so unreasonable. She spun to face him, hands on hips, eyes blazing. "You listen up mister! You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't own me. No one does. And no one forbids me to do a damn thing!"

"Hermione someone has to! You are being a complete idiot! I'm your boyfriend and I know what is best for you!"

"No, you're Padma's boyfriend. Remember! You're with her now. So go tell her what to do."

He opened his mouth to scream back at her but no words came out. Hermione turned quickly as Professor Snape swooped down on them. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for screaming in the hallways like first years."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but realized that she had been hit with the same silencing spell.

"Get out of my sight, the charm will wear off by dinner, and in the interim Hogwarts will be free of your incessant arguing."

Hermione stormed off down the hall to her dorms. She stomped up the stairs, in no mood to explain without words that she had no words. In her room she found a majestic eagle owl tapping her window. She let in the bird, which pompously held out one slender leg for her to retrieve her message. He swooped away without waiting to see if she had a reply.

The long elegant script was unmistakable.

_Not the Trophy Room. Too public. I'll see you in the old charms classroom, left of Godric's statue in the west wing, at promptly 7:00._

_DM_


	5. Don't Call Me Sweetheart

Draco Malfoy was early, as was his habit. He knew that Granger would be on the dot and didn't want to arrive after her. The old charms room was cloaked in dust and Draco found momentary reason to regret his decision to meet here. This is what happened when you were too lenient with the help. They got lazy. There was no excuse for the state of this room, the house elves were probably too busy ducking liberation to be about their jobs properly. "Dobby!" He snapped, and was not surprised when with a clap the small elf appeared at his side.

Draco chose to graciously ignore his ridiculous apparel, a badly matched tuxedo, several different colorful socks layered one over the other, and a teetering tower of what looked to be knitted hats. Instead he gestured to the room and Dobby squeaked, his face turning even more ashen, quite obviously mortified to find the room in such awful repair. The little elf immediately called for reinforcements and Draco left them to it, confident that they could carry on without his supervision.

That was how Granger found him, indolently lounging up against the wall in the corridor. She must have been running behind because she flew around the turn quickly, slowing to a walk, and smoothing down her hair before she caught sight of him. Her mouth instantly tightened in annoyance, whether at the sight of him, or because he had witnessed her hurry, he didn't know. But even the pinched look of her mouth didn't detract much from the whole picture.

She had wild unmanageable hair. On an eleven-year-old girl, it had looked huge and frizzy. On a young woman, it was sensual and sexy, spiraling down her back in chocolate waves. Her features were fine and chiseled, almost doll-like in their porcelain perfection. He especially liked her lips, red and pouty, like she had just eaten a bowl of ripe strawberries. She was slender and tall, and fit him perfectly. She would be a vision on his arm…if he could keep her persuaded long enough.

Her scent reached him first, floral and light. He didn't speak, or bother to stand upright even when she planted herself in front of him. "Why are you in the hall? I thought you wanted to be discreet." She whispered. He could tell she was still angry with him about this morning, but she had a good head on her shoulders and kept her voice low. Just then Dobby came out of the room behind them and announced that the classroom was clean, if Master would like to inspect it.

"Thank you, Dobby. There is no need for me to inspect, your work has always been excellent." The little elf glowed with satisfaction as he popped away; unfortunately, his enthusiasm was not contagious. His girl was practically hissing fire at him under her breath, about elf rights, inhumanity, slave labor, blah blah blah…She seemed to be quite worked up and it wasn't long before she was pointing a finger at him and jabbing it towards his midsection threateningly.

"Hermione relax. Dobby doesn't mind. He enjoys the work…" But she talked right over him about how wizards like him thought this and that. Merlin, she was adorable. Her eyes flashed up at him, wide hazel orbs that shone with emotion. He found himself focusing on her lips as they moved rapidly, her finger getting closer and closer to his chest with each jab. He liked her voice too, soft without being shrill, husky without being deep. Melodious. That was the word he was looking for. Her finger brushed his robes in its enthusiasm and before he could think about what he was doing he had grasped her wayward hand in his and tugged her close enough to kiss.

The look on her startled features was priceless as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth was open in a soft O and soft and pliant against his. He brushed up against her gently before nibbling and exploring her lips.

She tasted good

Like Honey

When he felt her tentatively kiss him back, his whole body shuddered in a reaction so powerful that he pulled away before it could overwhelm him. She stared up at him, wide eyed with parted lips. He knew he must look just as dazed but couldn't seem to master his expression and force it into something resembling his usual nonchalance. Her hand rose slowly and she pressed trembling fingers to her lips, as if testing that they were still under her command before she spoke in hushed whispered tones, as if the walls were listening.

"What was that?"

Hell if he knew. His whole body was still strumming with awareness of her. Her scent was sharper, her breath mingled with his, and his lips stung with the loss of her touch.

"The only way to shut you up." He finally managed a friendly grin, releasing her hand and giving her silent permission to move away. She didn't however step back and let him get his raging emotions under control. She continued to stare up at him, charmingly bewildered, her small hand pressed to her lips. "Besides we need to practice."

Something about that last sentence seemed to jog her from her temporary complacency and she jumped back from him abruptly, a gasp echoing loudly down the hall. "There will be no need for THAT kind of practice." She hissed angrily. He couldn't help but smile at her, a crooked arrogant smile.

"Well maybe I don't need any practice, but I'm sure Weasley left some loopholes in your education…"

"We are not talking about this." She said coldly, putting her delicate nose in the air and staring him down angrily. Putting him on familiar ground, because the truth was he was used to her anger having roused it many times over the years. "We aren't talking about this or any other private matters."

The hall was blessedly empty. He wouldn't have minded if anyone had witnessed an impromptu kiss between quarrelling lovers, but he certainly didn't want anyone listening in on the conversation that was sure to follow. He opened the door, gesturing for her to precede him and for a moment he thought she would refuse. She paused long enough to worry him before miraculously without argument she breezed through the door, turning sharply to face him, as if unwilling to have the enemy at her back. Charming. And how very Slytherin of her.

He thought about telling her so, as she started to hiss at him about never touching her again, and shut the door behind him. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he needed her cooperation on this. He could not make the plan work without her wholehearted participation.

"Granger…Hermione, even you, in your limited experience can't possibly believe that we'll be able to pull this whole thing off to a tee, and never touch each other."

She tossed her hair, a surprisingly feminine move that left him slightly unbalanced. His eyes traced over the bouncy shinning locks as they tumbled back around her face. What he had originally thought to be chaos apparently had some unidentified order, because the same curls fell into the same places.

"Are you even listening to me?" She shrieked, breaking through his mental fog with piercing brutality. He also hadn't heard her shriek and silently resolved to make it his mission that she felt the need to do so as little as possible.

"Holding hands, hanging out together, walking together, a friendly hug! Honestly Malfoy there are plenty of subtle ways to portray a relationship where your lips don't even remotely touch mine." He parroted in a sing song feminine voice, quoting her verbatim. The three seconds of silence her shock earned him were so precious. It was a talent of his, useful in classes like Transfiguration, being able to pay attention with only half a mind.

"Don't mock me!" She bit out, each word heavy with fury, her pointy finger coming into play once again.

"Look Granger, not that this little spat isn't fun, but I really don't want to spend my free time with you outside of our plan. We're not exactly bosom buddies, so if we could move this little planning session you requested further toward the actual planning…"

She huffed.

Her hands crossed under her breasts and her breath came in short little bursts. Another one of her attitudes he was familiar with. She huffed like that every single time she got shot down in potions, every time Snape belittled her. He found himself oddly pleased that he was worthy of such huffiness.

"We've been spotted together a few times; I don't think it would be moving too fast to sit together in a few classes."

She opened her mouth to protest but he plowed over her.

"Not any classes with Potter or Freckles though. As fun as it would be, fighting with them over your honor is counter-productive." He waited for her to speak and when she remained silent but thoughtful he continued. "That leaves Arithmancy and Astronomy. We'll be picking new partners in Astronomy; I think we ought to pair up."

"That doesn't seem too bold…" She bit down on her bottom lip with white even teeth, gnawing on it gently while she thought. "There are several Ravenclaws in that class though, Natasha and Sean are especially observant. We'd have to be careful to stay in character…"

He stepped closer to her and she tensed unconsciously, giving him a wary look. "You're right…Hermione…; they'll pick up on subtle hints." He sneered at her, twisting his lips in a practiced condescending scornful look. "For example, looking skittish at the very thought of my touching you."

She opened her mouth to protest but he reached out and cupped her face in his hands, touched her hair, brushed his thumb over her lips. "People who are in love look at each other like they're in love. They lean into each other; they sit close, touch often." She stared up at him alright, wide eyed and terrified, breath coming in short little pants, her body practically trembling with the need to move away from him. So not the impression he was going for.

"Relax…" He breathed and she squeaked. He sighed and scrubbed his brain trying to find a way to make her act like any of the simpering brainless pureblood girls who traipsed after him constantly. Fun to dally with, but they would get him absolutely nowhere in the big scheme of things. Even with his fertile imagination he couldn't even remotely picture Granger batting her eyelashes up at him and pouting prettily because he paid her no mind at lunch…He dropped his hands and walked across the room, turning and walking back, giving into his undignified desire to pace.

"I'm not the only one who needs to practice; you keep hesitating on my name, and sneering at me." She snapped without much venom, apparently needing to fill the void in conversation.

"If I quit sneering, people will assume Poly-juice. That will get us nowhere." He answered back absently. She giggled, and he looked at her sideways, disturbed. Granger did not giggle.

"Sit down." He said, resigned to donating more of his time to this little project this evening, when what he really wanted to do was work on his game at the pitch.

"Why?" She asked, entirely too suspicious. Who knew she was so paranoid about simple things? Did every little thing need a detailed explanation?

"I can't help you with the stage fright, but if you were more accustomed to my touch you might not jump around like a frightened first year every time I brush up against you."

She sat down on a gleaming student bench. "I really don't think there will need to be all that much touching…I'm not comfortable with this Malfoy."

"Draco." He corrected. Her shoulders were tense and hunched over, and she started violently when he laid his hands on them. Slow firm circles with his thumbs, pressure with his palms; he massaged her shoulders and neck and was delighted to find that almost immediately her head fell forward to give him better access.

"Draco…Where did you learn to do that?" Her voice had softened, to almost a purr and it washed over him like waves of dark chocolate. He found the pressure points at the base of her skull and manipulated them deftly for a moment before sweeping his hands back down to her shoulders and rolling her flesh between his fingers. She was melting like butter.

"I could call you Mia Cara." He said, lowering his voice an octave, trying to sound soothing and non-threatening.

"You aren't Italian."

"I could call you Cariña…"

"You aren't Spanish." She replied, leaning into his touch. He swept his hands down over her arms to her fingers and back again. She tilted his head back into his chest and her eyes fluttered shut. If he wasn't careful he'd put her to sleep. His mind flashed briefly to a ludicrous fantasy that involved him carrying her sleeping form down to the Slytherin dormitories and laying her out on his smooth silky sheets.

"Pêche?"

"Peach, why peach?" Her skin was soft and silky and she didn't jump when he nuzzled her neck, breathing in her clean subtle scent. Trust her to ask. He couldn't very well say, _'because you're ripe for the plucking my sweet'_ and expect her to stay supple and pliant in his hands.

His lips brushed against the soft spot under her ear and the spell was broken. She stood abruptly, spinning to face him, her voice higher pitched.

"Well, that's enough practice. I _um_ feel much better, thank you." She blushed a pretty sunset as she edged towards the door. "I'll see you in class then, we'll partner?"

He nodded and she was gone, leaving her light floral scent in her wake.


	6. Sweet Revenge

Hermione literally ran to the Prefects bathroom. If she was really looking for privacy she should probably go to Myrtles bathroom but it was too far and she didn't want anyone to see her like this. A mess. A complete and utter mess. She braced her hands on the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. She was flushed all over, her hair its usual mess, her eyes were still dilated, her lip red and swollen from chewing on it to keep from making a sound out loud.

He had a hypnotic touch. They must have taught it to him in Death Eater Summer Camp or something. Hermione was horrified that her sensible self could be disarmed so instantly. Just being around him had her heart pounding, her palms sweaty. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't think. It was beyond disturbing. I mean it was Malfoy! If she didn't know better she would think that those were the signs of…attraction. But that was impossible.

It was Draco Malfoy. And she knew better. But it didn't appear that her body had gotten the memo because every time she was anywhere near him her hormones kicked into overdrive. She needed to get control before she made a complete idiot of herself. Earlier he had kissed her. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers, and yet did she pull back and slap him like he deserved? No, instead she had kissed him back. She had behaved like a complete ninny! She obviously had no self-control where he was concerned and she couldn't go on like this.

The solution was simple. She needed to call the whole thing off. She simply wasn't experienced enough to have a boy touching her and feel nothing. A little voice in the back of her head piped up and Hermione tried to squash it…but the question remained. Then why had it been so easy to be reserved with Ron? She enjoyed his touches well enough, had let him kiss her a many times, but even when his body was pressed up against hers she had experienced none of the topsy turvy feelings that Malfoy inspired in her. It was disturbing.

She'd heard that opposites attract but this was ridiculous. She thought back to earlier that day, in the library, her comment about how anything could be learned in a book. Her books certainly hadn't prepared her for this, this…phenomenon. She must not be looking in the right books. She turned abruptly, to go to the library despite the late hour just as the door to the bath chamber opened.

Out stepped Padma Patil and Ron. Oh God…they were both in towels, hanging on each other and giggling as they left the steamy room. They were a few steps into the main chamber of the bathroom before they noticed her standing there with her mouth open.

"Hermione!" Ron said, almost accusingly, like she shouldn't be in the Prefects bathroom or something. This was just too much. They were sleeping together! In the bathroom that she used two to three times a week for her own bubble bath.

That was it.

This was war.

She gave Ron her most scathing look before exiting the bathroom and slamming the door as hard as she could behind her. There was no way she was calling off _the plan_ now.

* * *

"Take off your robe," He said, doing the same and bunching them together for her head to rest on before thrusting her unceremoniously onto the window seat.

"M…Draco. I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's a Brilliant idea. Nothing less than I've come to expect from you. Lay back, get comfortable." He said even as he whipped off his school sweater. He loosened his tie and her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. He made quick work of the row of silver buttons on his oxford and shrugged out of it to reveal just the thin white tee underneath. How was she supposed to relax with all those muscles rippling at her? It was indecent…and he was going to be touching her. Her body broke out in a rash of goose-bumps and she jumped in her skin when he walked closer and reached out his hands.

"I thought we were over that." He said irritably, not stopping but reaching out and grasping her school jumper and pulling it over her head. He pushed her back to the makeshift pillow of robes and grabbed her legs to move her down to a reclining position before reaching up to fluff the robes behind her head and smooth down her hair. He was all business, like he was positioning a mannequin and she was melting into a puddle of goo every time his warm hands brushed up against her.

"I didn't stop to think about them catching us snogging means there will have to be actual snogging. I don't know if I can do this." She said nervously, her heart beat doubling and her body reacting alarmingly when he quickly undid several buttons of her white oxford, exposing just the top of her lacy bra, and a little cleavage.

"Of course you can, you're Hermione Granger." He said absently, pulling her stiff legs apart and bending the one closest to the hallway, arranging her skirt so it appeared to have slid up her thigh by accident. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "They should be along any minute. My source said they always come through here right after lunch so they can snog in the reflection room." He looked awkward for one stagnant second before climbing up onto the window seat with her.

"I've changed my mind." She squeaked. "I don't want to be here." He climbed in between her thighs, crawling up her body. She had to open her legs wider to accommodate his body. Oh lord. She had never had anyone even remotely between her legs like this. He brushed up against her intimately and she moaned out loud trying to shrink away from him before she gave herself away. If he knew that she enjoyed any part of his touches, she would never live it down. Besides, it shouldn't be Malfoy making her body sing, it should be someone else. Someone she loved. Someone like Ron.

"I'm not a bad kisser you know." He sounded eloquently annoyed, his face scrunched up in irritation, just inches from her own, as he hovered over her on his forearms. That was the problem, Malfoy was probably as good at kissing as everything else, and if just a little massage left her pliant and willing in his hands, how much worse would her reaction be now?

"It's not that." She felt obligated to admit as she shifted underneath him to get more comfortable. He let out a low sound that might have been a groan. "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" She asked uncertainly, sure that she had leaned on something, or pinched something, like the awkward virgin that she was.

"It's not that." He replied his voice low and strained and she felt compelled to look up into his eyes. He had beautiful eyes. And something about the way he spoke had her thinking that maybe; just maybe he was affected by their closeness as well. He shifted against her again, rubbing suggestively, if not purposely. His hard stomach was pressed into her soft curves and she felt her nipples growing hard, her panties growing damp, despite her nervousness. Surely he had enough experience with girls to notice the signs of her…awareness.

He leaned in, his body sliding against hers and kissed her neck. Her whole body shuddered with the sensation and Hermione sucked in a deep breath. She had no idea that she was so sensitive there.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was low, breathy, uncertain, and she wished she would have made more effort to make it sound more brisk and formal.

"They'll be along any minute," he kissed her pulse, her jaw, soft warm kisses. Bad idea. Bad bad idea…

"They aren't here yet…" He nibbled the corner of her mouth.

"I don't want it to look staged." He brushed his lips over hers softly. His tongue darted out, swept slowly over her lips, and then he kissed her again drawing her bottom lip into his, touching it with his tongue. Releasing her lips and then kissing her again. This was nothing like Ron's wet enthusiastic kisses. This was slow, sensual. She was completely aware of everywhere he was touching her, every crease of his lips. Every feather-like touch of his tongue. She wanted more.

"This is too real." She whispered pulling back abruptly.

"Hermione I have no idea how to pretend to kiss you and make it look real. Just let it happen…"

He leaned in again, this time kissing her neck.

"Isn't this where you tell me to relax…"

"No, you're the right kind of excited." He whispered before sucking the soft sensitive flesh of her neck gently. Oh God in heaven, that felt…electric. He was sending shocks of sensation through her whole body. Like something out of a dime store smut book. Layering soft sucking kisses over her skin, starting at her shoulder and working his way to the sensitive skin just under her ear. She'd never been kissed like this.

She found herself letting out low sounds of pleasure as his kisses became harder, more aggressive. He captured her lips again, this time running his tongue along her lips only once before using his teeth to pull her bottom lip down and slip his tongue inside. But even with his tongue in her mouth he was slow, seductive, playing with her lips and tongue, drawing her out, making her kiss him back hesitantly.

This time he didn't pull away, like he did in the hallway yesterday, he let out a ragged sound and kissed her more firmly. She fisted her hands in the robes underneath her and he pulled back enough to whisper between kisses. "No, touch me instead." She hesitated before letting her hands skim over his back to his shoulders.

He shuddered and kissed her harder. "Did I do it wrong?" She asked when he released her lips to kiss her neck again.

"Gods No…don't stop." He whispered back, his own hands coming into play. One boldly running up her thigh, moving her skirt even farther up her leg. She grabbed onto his tee-shirt, digging her nails in trying to keep from crying out. And he was kissing her again, a desperate edge to his touch that she mirrored. She didn't care how wrong this was…she just didn't want him to stop…

* * *

"HERMIONE!"

Talk about cold water on the grave. For a moment she was mortified at being caught in the most intense make out session she'd ever had before reality intruded and she remembered that she had wanted to get caught. This calming knowledge however did not cause her blush to fade. She turned her head slowly, to meet angry blue eyes, across the hall. Draco turned his head as well, glaring balefully, before snarling "Sod off. This isn't your business Weasley."

"Hell if it isn't!" He shouted back before barreling towards them with alarming speed. Malfoy jumped up off her, landing on his feet with surprising dexterity, whipping out his wand before she could scramble up. She took a heartbeat to smooth her skirt and decide there was no time to fix her blouse before rushing between them, holding out her hands.

"Move out of the way Hermione." Ron shouted, trying to get around her, but she refused to budge.

"No. I'm not moving. You need to calm down Ron." She tried to say but he shoved her hard enough to send her flying back on her ass and swung at Malfoy, catching him full on his face. In a heartbeat they were a tangle of angry boy limbs, both punching and kicking fit to kill while she sat on the cold stone floor, her mouth open in shock. She couldn't believe Ron had pushed her! She hoped Malfoy kicked the snot out of him.

She was pulled out of her stupor by none other than Padma helping her up by her arm. She shared an amazed look with the other girl before pulling out her wand and yelling "Petrificus Totalus". They were too entwined to aim for one or the other, it was just luck that she hit Ron with the spell and she couldn't begrudge Malfoy getting in one more brutal punch before he climbed to his feet. Ron had after all, sucker punched him first.

Malfoy said nothing as he brushed his clothes off, they were hopelessly covered in dust and his white tee-shirt had a huge rip in the stomach. He stooped and picked up his wand, examining it carefully before tucking it away. She walked over and looked down on her ex-boyfriend and tried to dredge up some pity or satisfaction. But all she felt was cold anger. She had so many things to say to him. Yell at him for being an ass, for punching Malfoy, for not listening to her. But the only words she could find were "If you ever assault me again I will tell Harry."

The blood drained from his face and his eyes bugged up, but he couldn't move or speak and Hermione decided she rather liked him like this. "Can you undo the spell?" She directed at Padma, who knelt by her boyfriend and took out her wand.

"I'll let him up when you're gone."

"I'm sorry about this,"

"It's not your fault."

She linked her arm through Malfoys and turned to walk away. Surprisingly he didn't fight her. He was going to have a hell of a shiner and she wondered if she could heal it with her wand. She hadn't really had much practice with Medi-spells. What with no magic in the summer and Madame Pomfrey here at school but she had read all about them.


	7. Healing Touch

As it turned out Malfoy hadn't matured as much as she had thought. He still whined like a two-year-old when he got hurt.

"Hold still."

"Granger! That bloody hurts! Quit poking me."

"Do you want me to heal this or not?"

"Healing isn't supposed to involve all that prodding. If you weren't a sodding muggle you'd know that. Doctors have to poke and prod. Healers know better."

She graciously chose to ignore his snarling because he was sporting a huge black eye earned in her defense. "I wouldn't poke you if you'd quit squirming around."

"I'm certain that Madame Pomfrey doesn't jab like that, and it only takes her one try."

"That's the wand movement in the book. If you like Madame Pomfrey so much, go to her."

"Your flaming boyfriend gave me this bruise. The least you can do is heal it. I was rolling on the ground like bleedin' common trash for you. You'd think you'd be a little more gracious."

"Well maybe if you'd shut up for five minutes I could concentrate and heal your stupid little bruise. I am grateful. That's why I don't give you another shiner to match this one and walk out of here."

"You had better be grateful after all I've done for you…"

"This whole thing was your idea Malfoy!"

"No," He almost sang. "I seem to recall you laying out this particular plan." She took a deep calming breath. In through her nose, out through her mouth. "Maybe your memory is faulty, along with your dismal judgement in friends and lovers."

She tried the spell again. "Mucilaginousio" and spun her wand in a small circle before pointing it at the large purple bruise. Malfoy was right about the wand movement; it worked better if she didn't jab quite so much. This time almost all of the swelling was reduced and some of the color faded. She tried it again with less of a jab and more of a swivel and was rewarded with almost unblemished skin. She couldn't help her pleased smile. She immediately turned to some of his other, smaller bruises and healed them quickly. It was all in the wrist. "I'm not sure of the spell to get rid of the abrasion over your eye though…if we go to the library I can look it up."

He touched his eye, almost hesitantly and gave her a long look. "That was nicely done…Thank you." There was something about the way he was looking at her, the tone of his voice, that let her know that wasn't what he'd originally intended to say. She realized with a start that she was very close to him, her breath in his face, her body almost touching his. When she'd been concentrating before he hadn't seemed too close, but all of the sudden he seemed to be an overwhelming presence and she had to step back to get her bearings. "Right then, let's go."

Hermione dried her suddenly damp hands on her skirt and glanced down at herself. She quickly did up her blouse, pulling at her skirt to straighten it. Malfoy took the hint and started to put himself to rights as well. There was no way she would ever be caught in the library looking freshly kissed and indecent. There was nothing to be done for her hair without a sink full of water and a mirror so she just pushed as much of it behind her ears as she could manage. She wished she hadn't left her robe lying on the window seat. The story was probably all over the school by now.

"Back to get our robes?"

He nodded his head, pushing himself off the desk he'd been sitting on. He opened the door and gestured her through and Hermione had to hide a small smile. Opening doors and being polite to her was beginning to become a habit for him. Then she frowned because in all of her time at Hogwarts she couldn't once remember Ron holding the door open.

 

* * *

 

 

Granger had the most delightful way of wriggling her ass when she walked. He'd never noticed before because she was either wearing her Hogwarts robes or those horrid baggy pants, jeans, whatever. But that short little pleated skirt gave a whole new meaning to legs up to her neck. He was fascinated with the bounce around her thighs as she bounced on ahead of him. Every third or fourth step there would be enough swing in her step to get a glimpse of the lace around her thigh high stockings. If he hadn't seen them for himself, he would have never believed she had them on.

He knew for a fact he'd never seen her wear stockings before which meant that she had put them on special just for today's scene. That made it ten times hotter.

His mind flashed on some naughty librarian porn in his fathers' collection and he quickly looked away from her nicely shaped behind, trying to force his mind elsewhere. If he didn't get control of his thoughts he was never going to get control of his body. Even a naïve virgin like Hermione would eventually realize that he had a hard on the size of a summer sausage. But like a polarized magnet his eyes were drawn back to the girl in front of him.

And try as he might, he couldn't get the scene from the window seat out of his mind. He had thought he could be all business about it. He'd been with dozens of girls just as pretty, if not more beautiful than she was. He was a man of the world. But when he'd stepped back and taken in the scene he'd known he was in trouble.

She was the very picture of seduction just as he had intended her to be. Unfortunately for him, he had felt very seduced, and a telltale bulge in his pants.

Just from looking.

Her hair a sexy mess around her face and shoulders, a wayward curl nestled against her chest. Which he had a tantalizing glimpse of, since her pristine white blouse had been un-buttoned. Her skirt riding up her legs, black lace from her stockings hinting out from underneath.

Oh yeah, he was definitely in trouble. But it had been too late to back out and the horrible unbiased truth was that he hadn't wanted to. Just the thought of climbing between those milky white thighs had him revving at the engine, all systems go. She'd of course been too nervous to know just how much trouble she was in.

And then touching her. Even now he shuddered at the memory of hesitant kisses and undulating hips. Arching her back for him, offering her neck, letting him run his hands up her silky thighs. If bloody Weasley hadn't shown up he had no doubt he'd have shagged her into the ground.

Just now had almost been even worse. Her bent over him, half undressed, her scent all around him. Her hair brushing up against him, her cool fingers on his skin. He'd had to resort to snarling at her. It was either that or kiss her senseless again, only now he had no excuse. He didn't fancy being slapped silly.

Again.

Now he was following her like an obedient puppy down the corridors. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why he was tagging along. Mission accomplished, the whole school had no doubt that he and Granger were hot and heavy. No reason to be hanging around with the girl. He ought to be down in his common room fending off snide remarks and getting patted on the back for bagging the Gryffindor prize virgin. He just couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her ass. Leaving would mean leaving behind the view as well. He was a Slytherin, he was just being lecherous. Right? Right! It made perfect sense.

Maybe Voldemort had messed around with a Mudblood and that's why he was so barmy.

The taste of her was still in his mouth.

Her scent was on his skin.

He was in trouble.

What he really needed to do was go fly for a bit. Clear his head. Although he couldn't imagine flying with a woody to be too comfortable.

She stopped abruptly and he realized that they had reached their destination. She handed him his robe, wordlessly shrugging into her own. The fact that he had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't realized where he was jolted him out of his preoccupation. It was very unlike him. He blinked as his eye candy was put away and squeezed his eyes shut.

This was not good.


	8. Coming up for Air

Disappearing sounded like a fantastic idea right about now.

Hermione stomped harshly on this cowardly thought and held her head high. Malfoy might have melted away into the oblivion while she was putting on her robe earlier, but that didn't mean that hiding was the best way of dealing with the situation. It was taking his advice that had landed her in this God-awful situation to begin with. It was time that she started using all that esteemed Gryffindor courage. But really, would it be so awful to miss a meal? She'd missed meals before, during marathon study sessions. But she knew that when it came right down to it everybody would know that she was ducking because of Malfoy.

She had justified hiding in the girls' bathroom for most of the afternoon, under the pretense of espionage, but dinner would have to be faced. Besides it wasn't like she hadn't heard her name over and over again while she huddled in a stall. Rampant disbelief and shocked astonishment were the most common reactions. She had had to bite her lip to keep from squawking indignantly at the few people who said they saw it coming all along. She had learned plenty about what people thought of her that's for sure, and definitely had confirmed that _EVERYONE_ knew about that afternoon…which had been her original intention when she had closed herself off in there. The overwhelming response to people knowing however is what kept her there for several hours.

She steeled her backbone and pushed through the big double doors to the banquet hall.

Hermione immediately wished that she had come earlier so that her entrance wouldn't be so obvious. She halted in her hurried steps for a moment as sound in the room almost ceased and hundreds of avid faces swung in her direction. She refused to duck her head and look at the floor, she had outgrown that unbearable shyness. She refused to give them the satisfaction. And if she hurried a bit? Well she was hungry and really, who could blame her! As if they had nothing better to do than stare at her. Nosy busybodies. It wasn't like half of those girls hadn't snogged Draco Malfoy too.

Draco turned in his seat; feet sprawled out in front of him, and watched her walk the plank with a smirk in place. Arrogant bastard. She shot him a murderous glare, which only seemed to increase his glee, and practically dove into her seat between Harry and Ron. Lord, it was like some cheesy teenage movie. The moment she took her seat conversation sprung up at all the tables around her, and despite the whispered tones she still heard her name over and over.

Once, yesterday in fact, she would have found comfort here. Among her own. But at the Gryffindor table there was stony silence. She began to fill her plate, almost haltingly. Silence at her table was unheard of. Harry and Ron on either side of her usually felt safe, gave her strength and courage, but now it seemed like she was being closed in on from all sides. Just when she was considering fleeing from the table without eating Harry dropped an arm over her shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Have some of these lemon bars, Mione, they are really good."

The spell was broken just like that. Conversation sprung up, people began to eat, and no one stared at her. She gave Harry a grateful smile and took a bite of a lemon bar. Granted it was obvious that no one was talking about her and that they wanted to, but she preferred it that way.

"We still have to talk Hermione." Harry whispered in her ear, but the dreaded declaration wasn't nearly as hard to swallow as she had feared.

"I know."

* * *

Draco Malfoy scowled at his friends who were twittering and tried to concentrate on his food. Slytherin's did not twitter. What was with these brainless loons? Did Dumbledore change their colors to poncey Gold and Scarlet? Really, the aftermath of his liaison with Granger was not at all what he had expected. Instead of sly speculative looks and pats on his back he was getting...giggles. It was just beyond disturbing. He felt like standing up and shouting that he refused to be affiliated with a house that giggled and excusing himself from the table.

If he overheard one more person telling another person that they had seen it coming all along he was going to rip out their tongue.

Uppity chit didn't even give him a second glance when she walked past him. Who did she think that she was? Ignoring him! He was a Malfoy, the Malfoy heir. Her boyfriend. Despite his best intentions he let his gaze drift over in their direction. He had to control his features and bite his tongue to keep from snarling in rage. Potter had draped his spindly little arm over her and was whispering intimately into her ear. The little flirt was leaning in, smiling softly. Now why the hell couldn't she do that with him? Everyone would believe this little charade in a heartbeat if she would just look up at him with those doe eyes the way she was looking at Potter.

He wasn't in this on his own and he wasn't going to let that stuck up prissy little Gryffindor make him look like some pathetic love struck nancy boy chasing after the golden girl. She was going to have to give a little back.

Giving him filthy looks and flouncing over to her table to cuddle with someone else was not appropriate. She was just a little too secure in her position. After all he hadn't declared undying love or anything messy like that. He'd just been caught pawing her in a dark corner of the castle. Nothing he couldn't recover from. If she didn't start upholding her end of the bargain he would spin this in a bad way for her. It would be really easy to just blow her off as another conquest and find himself another muggle-born witch to woo.

If Potter didn't get his hands off of her in the next five seconds he was going to snap his fingers like twigs.

* * *

Hermione knew it was just her imagination but she could practically feel Malfoy boring a hole in her skull with his glare. She shifted away from Harry so she could hazard a glance from the corner of her eye. She quickly darted her eyes forward, half expecting her breath to come out in white puffs. The look he had given her was so cold that she ought to have felt an artic breeze slamming up against her.

What was his problem? He was the one who disappeared on her today. Leaving her with a stomach full of butterflies, a head full of questions, and a lions' den to face alone. She pushed her heavy hair over her shoulder and casually turned her head enough to watch him go back to ignoring her. Arrogant Berk. She couldn't believe she had to face Harry and the entire Gryffindor house for him and he didn't even deign to so much as acknowledge her staring.

Dinner was like chewing on sawdust, tasteless, joyless and got stuck in her throat. As the minutes ticked by and the moment came when she would have to go back to the Gryffindor common room her stomach wound itself up tighter and tighter. She couldn't quit eating because that would mean it was time. At last she laid down her fork and snorted with amusement at the clatter of silverware hitting the table. Apparently people waiting on the edge of their seat for her to finish hadn't been her imagination.

Cool, Calm, Collected. She was Hermione Granger and she could handle anything.

* * *

Things pretty much went as expected.

Harry's genuine concern for her broke her heart, but she was getting just a little annoyed with his high handedness. She wasn't an idiot. She knew Malfoy just as well as any of them, it wasn't like she was blinded by his flirting or something.

Ron's seething and shouting reminded her painfully of when they had been going out. The satisfaction she had expected at having him throw a jealous fit was not to be minimized but dealing with the rest of her house was making her seriously question whether it was worth it.

When she insisted that she was tired and went to bed, she was bombarded by a dozen girls waiting in her room. Really, Ginny should be ashamed! Didn't the girl know that Malfoy was an evil manipulative bastard, whose father had tried to murder her, and was in no way shape or form attractive?

Lucky for her the girls in her house knew that she was fairly inexperienced as far as boys went. So her blushing, and stammering, and inability to provide coherent details was chalked up to good old fashioned shyness. At least she hoped it was. The curiosity she could live with on some level and after a few questions she began to gather her footing and respond with more of a "none of your business" attitude. These girls knew she was not the Chatty Kathy who's your girlfriend type. She had certainly never been invited to any of the girly, pink bunny slipper, makeover, and gossip parties held in the commons area. Nor had she any desire to be invited. And one heated snog with the gossip king was not going to transfer such a desire via osmosis.

It was the pity that got her righteous knickers in a twist. These girls actually felt sorry for her. They believed that Malfoy was taking advantage of her, using her, and that she was too naïve to see it. Had these girls really attended several years of boarding school with her? Didn't they know her at all? No one got anything over on her, duped her, or took advantage of her. She was not tender from her break-up. She was not overwhelmed by Malfoy's masculinity. And she sure as hell was not in over her head.

Malfoy was definitely going to have to step up and fulfill the adoration clause in their agreement. Otherwise her reputation would be in tatters. Mangle her heart all you wanted, but these boys were messing with her reputation. Between Ron and Malfoy she was now a brainless, boy chasing twit, who didn't have a clue what was best for her. He had better make this right or she would curse him so badly his grandchildren would be cross-eyed.

* * *

It gave Draco great satisfaction to let Hermione stew in her juices all night. He had Quiddich practice and then took off on his broom. He deliberately didn't tell anyone where he was going. His housemates wouldn't know where Granger had gotten off to and perhaps they would think they were off canoodling somewhere. No one had the nerve to outright ask him. At the very least his reputation as a Malfoy afforded him some luxuries. He didn't have to put up with a barrage of questions from his housemates. Even Pansy shied away when he snapped at her to mind her own ruddy business.

He made a point of being late to breakfast so she couldn't ambush him in the halls. A happy little tune was playing in his head. He didn't know what had been wrong with him the last few days. Getting all short of breath and moony eyed over a girl. A long hard flight and a good night's sleep had cleared his mind. He was back on even footing and ready to plan and scheme. Granger should be all wound up, his father should have gotten the news, and someone had anonymously let slip to the Prophet that the Malfoy heir had chosen a bride. He of course wouldn't confirm that story but he expected it to be splashed across the front page tomorrow anyway. He hoped they used the recent photo's he had provided with his anonymous letter and not one of those hideous buck toothed pictures from Grangers unfortunate ugly duckling days.

Everything was falling together nicely.

She was waiting for him at the doors to the great hall.

Seeing her again was like a kick in the gut. She had her head down, fiddling with something on her wrist, a bracelet. One slender foot was up on its toes, twisting. Her hair hid most of her face, coffee colored curls brushing the tops of her breasts. He stopped a good ways away and sucked in a breath. When had it gotten so hard to breathe? She was no supermodel. No flashy clothes, artful makeup, or perfectly manicured nails for Hermione Granger. But she was beautiful. Classic in a way very few girls could claim. She was stunning without trying and somehow that made her dead sexy.

The sexiest thing about her was that she had absolutely no idea how damn pretty she was. Okay, take a breath Malfoy. This wasn't that unnatural. She was someone he had recently had a very pleasant snog with. Any normal boy his age would be feeling…something. He slapped his best snooty smirk on his face and marched up to her. She realized he was coming and her pretty eyes got so big around that he fancied he could see his reflection in them.

But she stood her ground in classic Granger style and tipped her head back to retain eye contact.

"Where have you been? I've scoured the castle looking for you."

"I'm not one of your Gryffindor lapdogs. I was busy." He tried to put as much disdain as he could muster into his voice and hoped it didn't sound as hoarse as he felt. His gaze wondered to the hem of her skirt, his traitorous mind flashing back to creamy thighs wide open for him, grinding hips, his hand pushing her skirt up further. He blinked and gave her his best glare for distracting him. She glared back, hands coming up on her hips. Putting him back on familiar ground. He was well used to her eyes spitting fire at him.

"Malfoy," She hissed angrily, "I sure hope your next step in your grand scheme is all planned out. Because so far this whole thing is not working out for me. Ron thinks I'm a pathetic moron!"

"It's Draco, Hermione." He whispered taking a step into her personal space. She was the one who was supposed to be unbalanced. He was supposed to be in control. But he just kept replaying that scene of her in his arms over and over. She smelled good. He wanted to push her. He wanted to unbalance her as much as she unbalanced him. He wanted her lips to part, her breath to come quick. He wanted her to shake when he touched her. "It's too late to back out now sweetheart."

"I told you not to call me that, Draco." His name was falsely sweet on her tongue. Syrupy. "You've gotten your overnight fame now it's your turn to uphold your end of the bargain."

"Exactly, I've got what I want. I don't see any reason to be all that concerned over what you wanted." He took another step closer to her and she retreated by taking a step back. Her foot hit the door and she jumped a bit, startled to find it there. "We're not exactly friends."

"I'll tell you why, you overgrown rodent." She hissed, her finger coming up to poke him in a threatening manner. Her breath smelled like peppermint and was coming nice and fast now. "Because I'm not one of those brainless twits you usually date. I'll make you rue the day your mother laid eyes on your smarmy father. You do not want to cross me."

She was good at making a threat. Her voice screamed conviction. He didn't doubt for one minute that she would hack him into pieces, wear his guts for garters and mail his mother his spleen. It was dead sexy.

"Good plan…Hermione, after I spurn you and you bleed me dry everyone will talk about Black Widow Granger. Couldn't keep her man but she could get revenge."

Her soft hands curled into fists and she started to shake with anger. "If you think for one moment I would stoop to killing you, you are sadly mistaken. I want you to live a good long time. I want to make sure you have years and years to suffer." She gave him a small shove. "Get out of my way vermin."

"If I'm vermin then why do you like to kiss me so much?" He didn't know what made him say it; it was only a guess, and he liked to always be sure. Her eyes got even bigger and her lips parted on a silent indignant gasp. Something about her soft lips so close to his had him bending his head and taking advantage of her. She pressed her hands against his chest hard and tried to turn her head but he was having none of it.

He pushed back until she was firmly up against the door and gathered a handful of hair so he could hold her still. She bit his lip and he tasted blood so he ruthlessly took advantage of her open mouth to get his tongue inside. She let out a low sound that might have been a moan. And she tasted so fucking good. He rocked his body up against her so she couldn't bring her knee up but she managed to get her hand up to his nipple and gave it a vicious twist. Minx.

He let her go long enough to get her hands over her head and pinned to the wall. She was strong for a girl and she struggled. But it was all for show. This time when he kissed her, she kissed him back. It wasn't too long before she softened against him. He let go of her hands so he could bury his in her hair and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders with a sigh. Yeah, she could deny it all she wanted. She liked kissing him.

He felt like he was drowning and he didn't mind. He was desperate to touch her everywhere. To explore every dip and hollow. To kiss her till she passed out from lack of air. His head was spinning, and his tongue was alive with the taste of her. Her scent surrounded him and nothing in the world existed except this girl. This perfect woman in his arms.

Her sighs and moans and lips and tongue. Her soft breasts pressed up against him. He shoved one thigh between hers so he could rub up against her just right and she twisted against him desperate for the friction.

He didn't want to let her go.

That thought intruded like a glass of ice water to the face.

He pulled back from her as suddenly as he had pulled her to him in the first place. She followed him, holding onto him for support and gasping for breath. She was every bit as breathless and unbalanced as he had wanted her to be.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I wanted you to look freshly kissed when you went to breakfast." This seemed to snap her out of her passion induced daze and she jerked away from him, smoothing her hair away from her face as best he could.

He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted it so bad that he had to take a step back from her to curb the impulse.

He was definitely out of his fucking mind.


	9. It's All Downhill

He was clearly unbalanced. Swinging from one mood to another with no warning quick as lighting. Hermione tried to back away and remembered how close she was to the door. She straightened her spine and tossed her hair back. He'd made a quite a mess of it, there was no fixing it without a sink full of water and a wand. Who was crazier? Malfoy? Who was obviously insane and didn't even know it, or was it her? She was the one had chosen to expose herself to his foul personality, let him paw her, and toy with her reputation. She was supposed to be the smartest Witch of her generation, but she was acting like a complete ninny. Perhaps she should see if therapy was covered by her parents insurance because obviously she was in need.

He gave her a slow condescending look, sweeping his eyes from her feet to her eyes, and nodded, seemingly satisfied. She felt his look like a physical caress. She had to stop herself from crossing her arms over her chest, and then messed it up by flinching when he gave her his patented knowing look. Deep down she was convinced that he had absolutely no idea about anything and his stinking father had taken him aside and taught him that all knowing look.

"Get out of my way." She went for cool and collected but her voice sounded angry and had a wet Crookshanks tone to it. She didn't care. She gave him her best look of deepest loathing and twisted so she could get the door open. "We'll talk about this later, when you've had time to come to your senses." She threw over her shoulder, breezing through the doors like she didn't have a care in the world.

She really hoped he came to his senses; murder most foul would be difficult to cover up. She would have to transfigure him into a ferret and keep him indefinitely, and rodents really weren't her thing. She was more into lovable furry creatures, like cats.

She was so furious at Malfoy that she almost didn't notice people staring at her. So caught up in her anger that she managed to get to her seat without scurrying or acting embarrassed. Who cared what they thought anyway? She'd spent several years at this school without their approval and wasn't sure how it had suddenly come to matter so much. Well screw them all. Let them think what they wanted. She was breaking up with Malfoy first thing in the morning. That was that.

There would be no more insane make out sessions that made her head spin. She was quite obviously not mature enough for it.

She smiled at Ron, inordinately pleased with his scowl and the bruise on his cheek. Just having him all riled up on her behalf made her feel so much better. She reached for her toast and buttered it with a calm sense of serenity that she had been lacking ever since she had embarked on this whole romance escapade. Obviously this whole boyfriend thing wasn't for her and she felt much more balanced just knowing that no matter how the cards fell she would be better off without one.

Her blessed tranquility however wasn't to be. Like always Malfoy intruded relentlessly.

Her bag dropped on the table in front of her knocking over the butter. He leaned in close, right in front of everybody to drop a warm soft kiss on her cheek. "You rushed off without your bag."

She felt the color flood her face like she was being dipped in warm red paint. Oh, she hated him. She hated him. She hated him. She suddenly realized she was out of breath and took a shuddering lungful of air as she turned to say…something. But he was already on his way to his seat. She let out a sigh and hauled her bag off the table, knocking over the salt in the process and dumped it on the floor without bothering to clean off the butter smear. It didn't matter; she was going to burn that bag anyway.

* * *

The problem with pushing Granger's buttons was that somehow she managed to push his buttons back. She had always been able to get under his skin, make his blood hot. Something about her was able to effortlessly skirt all of his usual defenses. Now she had a new weapon. Apparently his teenage libido found her incredibly irresistible. Just being around her had his hormones in a twist and his mind all clouded. Luckily she had no idea about her new found power over him. At least he hoped she didn't. He was going to have to curb his overwhelming impulse to touch her.

As much fun as it was to shock her and set her off balance, it was playing havoc with his own reactions. The thing was, in order to get her breathless and unbalanced; he himself was becoming intoxicated and aroused. Not that it meant anything. She was a pretty girl. He was a normal teenager. If his reaction was a little out of the ordinary it certainly didn't have anything to do with her. It was the excitement of duping the Wizarding world. It was the thrill of infuriating his father. It was the buzz from blatantly partaking in the forbidden. Not only was Granger muggle-born, she was the Gryffindor Princess, she was Weasley's obsession, and she was practically the sister of his arch enemy Potter. She was everything that he should never even consider touching…

That was why he found her so alluring.

He doused his pancakes with syrup and took a fierce bite to drown out the lingering taste of her tongue in his mouth.

"So Draco, are you shagging Granger or not?" Theodore Nott's distinctive drawl cut across the table silencing conversation. Draco deliberately swallowed his food, meeting the other boy's eyes with calm command. If he could only manage to be in as much control over his encounters with Granger he would be sleeping better.

"That's none of your business Theo." He took another bite of pancakes. Her scent was clinging to his robes. It was distracting.

"Well, we are just wondering what the hell you are doing traipsing around with that…"

He sat down his fork with a quiet clink. "I'd be very careful about what comes out of your mouth Nott."

Theodore visibly swallowed but then his face turned mutinous. "Since when are we not allowed to speak our minds about Gryffindor trash Malfoy?"

He stood up very slowly, enjoying his impressive height. "I'm going to assume that we are now discussing Potter."

The silence around them had spread to the Ravenclaw table but the Hufflepuffs remained cheerfully unaware of the tension. The pause stretched uncomfortably long and Draco was wondering if something more needed to be said when Theo finally spoke, averting his eyes. "Of course Draco, you know how I feel about Potter. He needs to be put in his place."

He sat down and quiet conversation began hesitantly, almost immediately overpowered by the delivery of the mail.

A crisp white envelope emblazoned with the Malfoy Crest lifted his spirits immediately.

_Draco,_

_Some disturbing misinformation has made its way into the Prophet. You have allowed your control of the situation at Hogwarts to slip to the point that some brainless twit has the gall to report outrageous gossip to some reporter. Splashed across the front page is a photograph of you on broomstick with that Mudblood friend of Potter's. The alteration is very good, I'm having it researched, it looks very genuine._

_We must convene immediately to devise a plan and collaborate on the best way to minimize the damage to your reputation. I am deeply disappointed in your inability to manage your affairs at Hogwarts in more dignified manner. In my day a salvage job such as this would never have been necessary._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco resisted the urge to immediately pen a response to the letter and folded it carefully, placing it in the inside pocket of his robes. He took another bite of pancakes and despite his best efforts let his gaze stray to the Gryffindor table.

She was chatting with her friends, blissfully unaware of the article about her in the Prophet. She slowly turned to her paper, unfolding as she laughed at something the She-Weasel said. He had forgotten she took a subscription to the paper. That made the whole situation even more delicious. She glanced down at the front page, shaking it out with a practiced flick of her wrists. He fancied he could hear her gasp as her mouth fell open but he was too far away to make out the sound over the school chatter.

He had a sudden irresistible need to see what was written about them in the paper. He pulled his fathers' letter out for effect, letting anger settle on his features. Before pushing his plate away and climbing to his feet. He stomped over the Gryffindor table. He could have gotten the paper from any one of a dozen other students. He didn't care. He wanted to look into her eyes and see her dismay. As long as he kept his hands to himself he could enjoy watching her squirm.

He grasped her arm above the elbow and leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. "Come outside with me."

She didn't even jump at his touch. She looked up at him with wide surprised eyes apparently too shocked to be offended and nervous by his closeness. "Malfoy," Her dismay apparent in her voice. "Have you seen this?"

She smelled so good. He didn't know what perfume she wore but he was going to demand that she quit immediately. It was distracting. He couldn't be panting all deep like this when he was around her. Weasley was turning an unpleasant shade of Puce and Potter looked as alarmed as Granger ought to have been. After all he had laid his Slytherin hands on their precious princess. He got an unholy thrill from their distress. He should have thought of this ages ago.

Her lips were very close to his and he tamped down the wild desire to kiss her. Brand her as his in front of Potter. Stake his claim for the entire world to see. His blood was rushing so fast through his veins that it was making him lightheaded. "I have something to show you too, come outside with me."

His voice came out husky and low, and he told himself he'd done it on purpose. She rose to her face almost hesitantly, clutching the paper way too tight. He forced himself to step to the side, mourning her closeness, so she could get out and Potter rose to his feet. "Is everything alright Hermione?"

"Oh, everything is fine." She said as she clumsily folded her paper and grabbed some toast. "I'll see you in transfiguration."

As simple as that she left with him. Either her acting skills had dramatically improved or she wasn't at all skittish in his presence. He couldn't decide if that was good or bad.

He took her bag, and stuffed the paper under his arm as he passed her the letter from his father. This time leaving with her did not feel like he was walking the gauntlet. People must be getting used to them already. He'd have to do something to shake them up. What fun was all of this if he couldn't horrify the masses?

He pushed open the doors and they walked out into the courtyard. She was blessedly silent while she read the letter from his father. The courtyard was empty for a short while; everyone was finishing up with breakfast. But soon it would be heavy with hustle and bustle. A good opportunity to be "caught" together in lover behavior.

"I don't understand," She stopped and looked up at him. "I thought that you wanted your father to be upset."

She was charmingly naïve and open. He'd have to break her of that. Her big brown eyes were like a map of her emotions if anyone cared to read it. He didn't care. He couldn't give one hoot how she felt, or what she thought, or how good she smelled. He grabbed her hand in a friendly way and gave her a tug so she would follow him. No witnesses here, but one could never be positive. He leaned down close to her ear to speak to her. That's the way a lover would be about it, and that way there would be no overhearing of the conversation.

"I do want my father to be upset. But I can't look like I'm thrilled about it. How you managed to be pegged the brightest Witch of the age, I'll never know."

"Just because I'm not naturally devious like you, doesn't mean I'm not intelligent." She whispered back, turning her head to place her words in his ear. Her warm breath tickled his skin. "So brilliant mastermind schemer, what's next on the agenda?"

"Well, the whole school is talking, Weasel is furious, and my father is in denial. I think that what we are doing is just fine."

"Where are we going?"

Did she ever stop asking questions? He gave her a look to hush her mouth and parked her underneath a willow tree by the lake. He dropped down beside her and spread open the paper. A full cover picture of himself and Granger graced the front page.

Even though he had coerced the picture from that runty Gryffindor that had been in the stands, Colic or whatever his name was. He hadn't really gotten a good look at the photo before he had stuffed it in an envelope to send to the Prophet. It looked completely different in large scale full blown color. The look on his face as he gazed down at her as they lifted up in the air must have been some sort of trick of the light. It looked downright…tender.

The story was pretty much just the details in the anonymous letter he had written. That he and Granger were exclusive, seen together everywhere, bla bla bla. Her credentials, his pedigree, all syrupy light stuff. Thankfully no younger year pictures of Granger. The creme de la creme was that he had asked for his mother's engagement ring, which was a well-known heirloom that had been in his family for centuries. He had done no such thing of course but it would be difficult to prove or disprove and it was vague enough that his family wouldn't protest it.

Just lovely.

He let out a sigh of satisfaction and handed Granger back her paper and stuffed his father's envelope back into his pocket.

"Did you know about this?" She shook her paper at him in a rather threatening way. She was a lot more violent than he had given her credit for. Always prancing around arrayed in her Gryffindor Righteousness about not bullying younger students, and about fairness for all creatures. But surprisingly she wasn't much of a pacifist…she was passionate. And quick to anger. He thought it was very sexy. "This is unacceptable, I can't have mongering reporters making up wild stories about me and splashing my life all over the paper."

"Relax Granger." He pulled an apple out of his pocket that he had intended for a late afternoon snack and polished it on his robes. "This is how we wanted things to look. Serious relationship. You're my Queen, I'm your devoted lackey…you know, your normal Gryffindor romance."

"People are going to ask questions! Did you really ask your mother for her ring?"

He reached out and tugged her closer, the doors would be opening anytime now and people would be streaming out into the courtyard.

"Well, just tell them that the Prophet is always exaggerating and smile." He tucked one of her wayward curls behind her ear and offered her a bite of his apple. She looked appalled and pressed on with her chatter.

"That will work for you because people expect empty headed prattle from you. My friends are going to want the truth." She was starting to sound hysterical. How bizarre was it that he found that adorable. He let his hand trail down her arm and sighed. Her skin was indecently soft.

"So make something up. Just don't make me look bad."

"There is nothing I could possibly say that isn't going to make you look bad." Her voice had taken on that quiet breathless quality that he liked so much. She was close enough that he could count her freckles. Smell her warm scent.

"So tell them to mind their own ruddy business." He leaned in. She was so close. He brushed his lips over hers just as the doors to the hall banged open admitting the first wave of students. She didn't notice. Oh Merlin. Her lips parted and he leaned in closer, brushing her soft lips with his tongue. He dropped his apple to bury his hand in her hair and taste her properly.

CLICK

FLASH

"Malfoy, Do you want to buy this photo too?"

She pulled away from him abruptly.

"YOU!" She scrambled to her feet. "You sent that photo to the prophet. I don't know why I am surprised." She stomped her foot, gave a little squeal, turned on her heel and left. He looked up at Colic, or Colin, or Creepy, or whatever his name was. It didn't matter…he was going to kill that scrawny little Gryffindor.


	10. Whirlwind

Hermione didn't like the skittish way that Colin scurried in through the porthole and straight to his room. It was late and he should have been in an hour ago at curfew. She risked a glance at Ron, sullenly bent over his chessboard and decided to talk to Colin later. She didn't want Ron to overhear anything that he shouldn't. She herself was in hunch mode over _Potions, Additions and Alterations_ in a nice squishy armchair by the fire. She was still too furious to make out the words in her book, much less concentrate on reading up for tomorrows lecture. However, having book in hand and head safely down did have the advantage of warding off classmates who might want to speak with her.

All they wanted was the latest gossip. Jerks. Why was it so important that everyone know what Malfoy was all worked up about? Jeez, didn't these people have homework and exams to worry about. This wasn't the social hub, it was a flipping school. Really, she was most angry at herself. She had known that Malfoy was out to use and manipulate her and she had allowed her own petty jealousy to give him the tools to do it. She was supposed to be better than that. Stronger than that. Above all this teenage hormone driven drama. She was head of her class damn it. A brain. Not some fly by night floozy.

Hermione adored the printed word. There was something so sophisticated about setting your thoughts down on paper. The newspaper was especially dear to her heart; it immortalized words and thoughts, deeds and actions. Seeing her name splashed across the profit in conjunction with that boy was lewd and offensive. Those lies that were broadcast to the Wizarding world were far more indecent than any kisses or touches that she had shared with Malfoy. He had the nerve to embroil her in his filth, dirty her hands with his deception. She felt polluted.

Suddenly her quiet, if fake, peace was disturbed. House Elves, at least a dozen, were suddenly all around her burdened with huge baskets tumbling over with colorful flowers. Orchids, they were orchids. Vivid beautiful orchids, oranges and reds and blues. It took a few seconds to realize that they were for her and that the elves were milling about trying to present her with the flowers. One elf, squashed in the middle of the melee was jumping up and down and crying piteously "I is the note, I is the note."

Hermione stood and reached into the group rudely plucking the card from the squeaking elf simply to quiet the ear-piercing noise. She was going to kill him. She was simply going to kill him. That would solve everything. She'd toss his albino body in the lake and never be troubled by him again. Or she'd end up kissing him again. She wondered if she could get away with breaking up with him by owl…that way she wouldn't have to get anywhere near him again…ever. The card had some flimsy flowery apology that referenced nothing but poetry. Really, did he think that would get him anywhere with her?

Her eyes crossed as she noticed a pattern to the verse he'd scrawled but before she had a chance to piece her thoughts together a gaggle of girls had snagged her note and begin to squeal annoyingly. Apparently the drivel he had scribbled was romantic and she should be swooning. She snatched the note back, swept up an armful of flowers and marched up the stairs to her room. These chits were her peers? It seemed so unlikely. Sadly, Malfoy knew them better than her and was clever enough to put his real message in code so that his admirers would be none the wiser. She hated it when he was clever.

She slammed the door to her dorm, dumped her flowers unceremoniously across her bed and plopped down at her desk to decipher the code. He had used Arithmacy as a base, probably because the percentage of students who took it was woefully lacking and he knew she'd pick up on it. Thirty minutes later she didn't know whether to be flattered or flabbergasted. He obviously thought she'd be able to break the code no problem. However, she'd scribbled all over half her notebooks trying out different combinations and was beginning to want to pull her hair out. She hadn't come across a puzzle she couldn't solve in ages. He must have messed up the code somehow.

Stupid boy.

When the solution came to her, it was like a light in a box. She was even angrier. Rather than be angry with herself for not seeing the deceptive simplicity immediately, she chose to come down on the side of angry with him for making the damn thing so simple. Did he think she was an imbecile?

She was supposed to meet him at eight in greenhouse eight.

It was 7:53.

She would have to run, damn it. She hated to run.

She hated even more the fact that he had backed her into a corner. She had no choice but to meet him. If she didn't meet him then it would mean she couldn't break his stupid code. He was forcing her hand.

She hated being forced into anything. Free will was her thing. He ought to know this. But no, he was the great and powerful Malfoy. Everyone always did what he said and no one ever challenged him. Which was why they were in this ridiculous situation in the first place because daddy had dared to try to force him and he was having none of it. Yet it was nothing to try and force her.

She wouldn't be manipulated damn it.

By the time she crashed her way into the greenhouse she was furious.

* * *

She crashed through the door like the first wave of a tsunami and he couldn't help but give her his best satisfied smile. In the beginning, he had thought to subdue her temper. Teach her to be more like the simpering beauties in his circle. However, upon reflection, he now understood that the best course of action was to let her be herself. She was known for her temper, her passion. A passionate love like theirs would include Hermione being angry. Her fury added an air of authenticity to their relationship that couldn't be faked.

Not that he didn't need to do damage control. Having his balls removed with a quill and served to his owl wouldn't create the sort of authenticity he was looking for. He had decided on plausible deniability. It had been his original plan and the fact that she knew he had purchased the photo did nothing to alter the fact that she didn't actually know that he had submitted it to the paper. Anyone could have done that. Even that scrawny rat that had sold it to him. The kid obviously wasn't above accepting cash for his work.

He tried to tamp down the smugness of his smile and look contrite. He probably just looked constipated, but surely effort counted for something.

"I wasn't sure you were coming." He had been just a trifle nervous that she would ignore his note and him forthwith…making him look the complete idiot as he went chasing after her. He was relieved she wouldn't require public humiliation to come around to his way of thinking. The scary thing was that he had been gearing up to endure it for her and he wasn't sure what that said about him.

She threw her nose up in the air and managed to look down on him despite the fact that she stood a full foot shorter.

"I wasn't sure either." She pushed her hair off her neck giving him a view of creamy shoulder and he took care to keep his eyes on her face. Wouldn't do to be caught ogling, she wouldn't appreciate it the way most girls would.

"That little twerp spreads gossip faster than a dozen Hufflepuff girls so everyone knows we've had a fight." He didn't have to work so hard when it came to looking irritated. He was furious that he hadn't been able to throttle the little bugger for fear of his girl's reaction. Obviously he hadn't managed to even scare him enough because the whole school was twittering that he and Hermione had had a screaming match on the lawn and broken up. He must be losing his touch.

"Don't talk about Colin that way! This is not his fault, it's yours!" She squealed, even stomping a small booted foot for emphasis. He ignored her just for the pure pleasure of irking her and continued as if she hadn't protested.

"Luckily the whole fight is being spun in a way that works for us. Apparently," He gave her his most sly Slytherin look "we are broken up because I didn't want my father to know about us and our picture is in the paper."

His sly Slytherin look had no effect on her. "Good, that saves me the trouble of breaking up with you! There is nothing left to talk about." She spun on her heel to leave and he cursed even as he reached for her and spun her back around and pressed her up against a large support beam.

Her earthy colors looked so alive against the deep red wood.

He had told himself that he was going to cool it on the physical stuff. That it was scaring her, and him too, and that things were getting just a little out of control. His body was getting confused, reacting to her like she was a real girl, and not a pawn for his amusement. All that resolve and careful planning went out the window the moment he laid hands on her indecently soft skin.

He'd planned out what he would say and how he would act and what they would do. Careful planning and forethought were the hallmarks of a wise and powerful man. She had the uncanny ability to turn him into an idiot with a breathless gasp out of rosebud lips.

He buried one hand in her soft hair and aligned his body with hers, relishing every soft curve and dip. "Oh, there is plenty to talk about."

She struggled of course, pushing back up against him, not realizing just how good that felt. She was like settling down into a hot Jacuzzi. Sucking him in inch by inch until he was submerged in her presence. In moments he was completely intoxicated by her scent and touch and sweet breath on his face.

"This isn't a good idea." Had she not sounded breathless and girly he might have let her go and tried to grasp at the straws of his original plan to keep his distance. But she was soft and pliable in his arms, her voice soft and velvety. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. She was practically begging for him to kiss her.

There wasn't any real excuse for it other than the fact that he wanted to. Oh, someone could be watching. They needed the practice. She needed to look disheveled and freshly kissed when he parted ways with her in front of the castle. She needed to be put in her place. All lies he knew he was telling himself. It was okay, he was comfortable with lies.

"Why did you submit that picture to the paper?" She asked, her breath tickled his lips. He ground his hips against her, suddenly painfully hard in his trousers. Lies raced through his head as one hand dropped to her hip to anchor her so he could push firmly against her. She sharply inhaled a breath and her eyes widened. She was finally taking notice that she had a physical effect on him.

"I thought it was a good opportunity. I should have consulted you." The truth came out ragged and breathless and he swayed against her in an ancient rocking rhythm even as he tightened his grip on her hair and ghosted his lips over hers. No one watching. They weren't practicing. This kiss would be real. It would mean something.

How was it possible that her scent overwhelmed an entire greenhouse of flora?

A hand came up and fisted in his shirt, balancing herself against him and he brushed his lips against hers again. Firmer, more insistent. He didn't need a reason to do what he wanted. He was a Malfoy. Draco Malfoy did as he pleased when he pleased and damned if it didn't please him to nibble on her lip and then use his tongue to sooth it.

Holy Merlin she was rocking back into him.

"From now on we discuss our plans beforehand. No more leaving me out."

He nodded against her mouth before kissing her more deeply. She sighed and he slipped his tongue inside, tasting her sweetness. His hand smoothing down her round hip to her firm thigh to the back of her knee so he could shift her weight and pull her leg up over his hip. Letting him fit in the space between. Just like the other day. Her other hand came up quickly around his neck to keep her balance.

He was all systems go, lost in her taste and her touch and her scent. Drowning in soft willing girl. But she wanted to talk. No way to forget who he was kissing when it was Hermione Fucken Granger whom he was lip locking. She never shut up. She pulled back enough to whisper. "So it's agreed. No decisions without me?"

Yes, Yes, Yes. He would have agreed to anything to keep her mouth occupied and quiet. It took full four or five seconds for his poor brain to fire the message to his mouth. "Yeah, we decide together."

And the truth telling and the agreeing with her were worth it. Because she leaned into him and gave him a soft sweet girly kiss. His grip tightened on her knee and he cradled the back of her neck with his hand and proceeded to devour her lips. He was never going to stop. He was never going to let her go. He was going to…

Jump apart and push her low to the ground because someone had just opened the greenhouse door.

On hands and knees they carefully crawled around the intruder, the herbology teacher. Bitch had the worst timing. He would have to plan his revenge carefully. Watching Hermione's ass wiggle as she carefully wound her way through the planters in the dim lighting did nothing to cool his ardor despite the unpleasant dirt on his hands and knees. They managed to squeeze through the door with Professor Sprout none the wiser.

Then she was pulling him to his feet and they were sprinting to the castle. She had a very sweet laugh when she was trying to be quiet. Her hand felt small and fragile in his and for a moment they were just two kids having fun sneaking out. It felt natural to pull her to him in front of the steps, brace his hands around her face, and give her another soft sweet kiss. Taste her laughter on his lips.

Something about it must have spooked her though because she pulled back with that wide eyed surprised look that irritated him so and fled indoors without so much as a goodbye thrown over a hasty shoulder.


	11. Reflections

Hermione tore through the castle like a mad woman. The only sound accompanying her the loud slap of her boots on stone. She didn't care if she got caught, she didn't care if anyone saw her. She slid to a stop at an intersection and glanced to the left before deciding to keep going forward. She wasn't about to show up in her dorm looking this rattled. She made it to the prefects bathroom without incident and slammed the door behind her bracing her back against it and breathing far too heavily to be justified by her short sprint.

She was way out of her depth here and more confused then she had ever been in her life. This was not good. She wasn't being rational.

That was the heart of the issue wasn't it. Malfoy spun her on her axis, made her thoughts seem scattered. When she was with him she wasn't herself. Rationality went the way of her common sense and she just wanted to kiss him.

She wasn't supposed to want to kiss him.

She made her way to the bathtub, rather shakily and began to turn on taps. His scent was clogging up her nostrils and she needed to wash the clinging memory of it down the drain.

She didn't understand what happened.

When faced with a problem the Hermione plan of action was to break it into chunks and go through the parts systematically. Just because this was an emotional problem didn't make it any different than arithmancy.

She had gone to the greenhouse to break off this farce of a relationship. Had even told him that they were done. But then he did what Ron should have done and went after her. How many screaming matches had she had with Ron? Never had he grabbed her and kissed her and then said what she wanted to hear. So what the hell? No doubt Malfoy knew girls better than Ron did but she wasn't supposed to be that type of girl.

She wasn't supposed to be the type of girl that let boys kiss them and forgot everything they were mad about. She was made of sterner stuff wasn't she? She had been so angry. Irrationally angry if she was honest with herself. Malfoy had only behaved exactly as she expected him to. She had worked herself into a froth in order to get up the gumption to tell him to go to hell. Did that mean that she really didn't want to tell him to leave her alone? Is that why it had been so easy for him to dart through her defenses and make her change her mind? Had she changed her mind? How much of her irritation and anger was just window dressing?

So how did she really feel?

Flattered. Nervous. Anxious. Aroused.

That should not be how she was feeling. This was a business arrangement. She shouldn't be feeling any guilty pleasure. She certainly shouldn't be making him give her breathy promises between kisses. She stripped in six efficient motions and climbed into the tub sinking into the hot frothy water with a sigh.

Which led to the other major chunk of her problem. Just what the holy hell was Malfoy playing at?

She sunk in the water, soaking her hair, enjoying the heavy weight of it. So she was definitely confused and reacting weirdly. She had no handle on the emotions she shouldn't even be having. She could and would have to accept that. What she couldn't accept was why Malfoy was behaving the way he was. Kissing her like that. Making promises. Holding her hand and being tender with her. He was acting like this was real. Like it was genuine. Was he such a good liar that he couldn't help but play his part?

Or was he feeling it too?

She scrubbed her hair and rinsed, conditioned and rinsed, shaved and dried and perfumed herself. All the while running every moment they had spent together through her mind, dissecting and analyzing every touch and word. He hadn't been professional and distant the way she expected from the beginning. She was no expert on human mating rituals and emotion but there was no doubt, the kisses in the greenhouse. That gentle caress of lips in front of the castle. They were different for him. She wasn't imagining it.

Hermione was a creature who liked to know. Well, she was pretty sure she knew that she had been kissed for real by Draco Malfoy. What she didn't know was what the hell she planned to do about it. She left the bathroom visibly calmer than when she had entered. No one would know by her serene expression and measured steps that the storm had just moved inside.

* * *

 

Draco lay moodily in his bed, catching and releasing a snitch passively. He hadn't bothered to remove his robes and they were bunched uncomfortably under the small of his back. He also hadn't bothered to kick off his shoes and he could care less about the mud on his comforter. Catch and Release. Catch and Release.

Had she rejected him?

He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted from her. But it hadn't been hasty retreat. He shouldn't feel rejected. He had told her that he was just using her and that he wanted her to use him back. Clean, no emotional messiness. Just a business deal. He couldn't be dejected because she had ran away from kisses that were neither businesslike nor emotionally distant.

She would be snugly back in Gryffindor Tower by now. Where he couldn't get to her. With her friends. And her Ex.

He had never really entertained the thought that she would take Weasley back. Surely she had too much class to allow him back into her life after the crass way he treated her. Even now, he really didn't think that she was actively thinking about getting back together with Ron. But he had told her that she could. That she could have him or dismiss him. The word in the halls was that Ron was desperate to fix his blunder with Granger and was going to break it off with that willowy twin he'd been seen with.

She might just do it, to escape him.

He was very surprised by how much that thought bothered him. He didn't want that freckled idiot touching her. He didn't want anyone to touch her. Anyone except him. So why? Why did he feel jealous and thwarted? He wasn't supposed to. The feeling was new. Maybe because he had never been rejected before.

Not that she had rejected him.

Because she didn't know that he had been really kissing her.

Because he hadn't told her.

It was just that he was competitive. He didn't want to lose, certainly not to a Weasley. He couldn't have her love that wretched excuse for a boy and shun him in the process. He couldn't have her leave him and go to Weasley. Or anyone else. He would decide when it was over. He would decide when he was ready to let her go.

He wasn't ready to let her go.

If he was honest with himself he knew he wanted her to want him.

Want him like he wanted her.

He wanted her to want him long after they had parted ways. He wanted her to remember him every time anyone kissed her. He wanted her to remember and want him and find anyone else lacking. He shouldn't want these things, but he did.

He needed a new plan.


	12. Downshift

* * *

Hermione was up early as was her wont and had already brewed her tea until it was almost black by the time Ginny stumbled into the commons. Bleary-eyed and silent she almost snatched the cup Hermione blithely handed her and huddled into a chair to consume her morning caffeine in her usual pre-wakeup haze.

Hermione had organized her notes for the day and gotten a full chapter of her Arithmancy book color coded with Post-It Notes in preparation for her upcoming midterm exam before Ginny had sufficiently perked up enough to check for eavesdroppers before pinning her with a look.

Early morning was the only time a quiet private conversation could be uninterrupted when one lived in Gryffindor tower and she wasn't surprised that Ginny had set an alarm to be up early so they could have a bit of a chin wag. Everyone knew she was a morning person and this wasn't the first break of dawn conference the girl had initiated, though previously the topic had been exclusively about Ginny's on again off again romance with Harry. Having schooled her wild emotions enough to get her first good night's sleep since _the breakup,_ she felt she was on an even enough keel to have this conversation. Plus, she had enough honest things she wanted to talk about that she was pretty sure she could skirt around lies altogether. Ginny might be a year behind her but she was ages ahead when it came to experience with boys. Despite her popularity, Ginny could keep an airtight secret and there really wasn't anyone else she could possibly talk to about this.

Going with the breakup story Colin had unwittingly provided for her would probably be in her best interest as far as salvaging her reputation. Telling Malfoy to shove off because he was being a bigoted ass would be expected, and a move in line with her character. Ron had been alone in the common room waiting for her when she got back, wanting to talk. She had put him off, but was relatively sure she could probably reconcile with him if she chose. Three things made her hesitate to take the gift that had been handed to her in the beautiful shiny paper of satisfaction topped with a big bow of moral superiority.

First, and the most easily reasoned, was that she had an _agreement_ with Malfoy. She might be able to walk away smelling like a rose from the situation, but Malfoy hadn't as of yet accomplished any of his goals. She didn't feel right about ending things before the verbal contract they had made was concluded to both party's satisfaction. She wasn't a user. Especially when Malfoy was such an influential person in his social set. His actions, though selfishly motivated, set the stage for further diplomacy. He may just be a teenager now, but his family was akin to pureblooded royalty.

Secondly, and far more difficult to come to grips with, was how exciting his touch was. She couldn't seem to turn off her brain and quit replaying every kiss, every caress. She had gone to bed with his taste still on her tongue and woke with his ghost grip on her hair. She'd shared a hundred kisses in the preceding month with Ron, a boy she loved, and had had absolutely no problem compartmentalizing her romance time from her schoolwork or other duties. A couple of days in a lip lock with Malfoy and she was literally fixated. She wasn't sure if she wanted to continue to indulge or if she wanted to go back to Ron and figure out how to duplicate that…chemistry…with a boy worthy of her affection.

Lastly, and the most twisted reason in her opinion while at the same time the most compelling, was the startling conclusions she had drawn last night while taking a nice long bath. Working through her problem backwards and seeing things with fresh eyes.

Malfoy had kissed her because he wanted to. All the evidence pointed towards it. It didn't make any sense in her well-ordered world. Self-serving desire to get himself some good press aside, the fact was that Malfoy didn't like her very much and had made that abundantly clear over six years. Yet here they were. Hermione's mind kept twisting it around, trying to find the why of it.  
She couldn't let it rest. She never had been one to leave a puzzle unfinished. She wanted to know. Why would he want to kiss her of all people?

So, she'd brewed enough tea in the commons for two and waited for her only girly friend to screw her brain on tight enough to have a conversation. Prepared or not, the peculiar mixture of embarrassment and excitement that churned in her stomach was awful. When Ginny just continued to give her _the look_ , she blurted out what was foremost on her mind to get the conversation rolling. After all she couldn't seem to think of anything else so she might as well lead with the most pressing matter.

"I snogged Malfoy within an inch of his life at greenhouse 8 last night and I think I liked it."

Not her most articulate declarative sentence. Thank goodness she wouldn't have to pontificate an essay based on that drivel!

"So it's true then. You are going out with him?" There was very little accusation in Ginny's voice. She was actually surprisingly gentle with her question.

Hermione dropped her head in her hands and groaned. Right to the heart of the matter swooped Miss Weasley. No matter how softly and delicately phrased it was still a hell of a bombshell question and she and Malfoy hadn't discussed announcing they were a couple. It was way too fast to seem genuine. It was also entirely his fault, if he wasn't pawing her at every opportunity then people wouldn't assume he was her boyfriend.

She decided to stick with her whole tell the truth just not all the truth plan and moaned an "I don't know" between her fingers. Which was true enough. At the last "planning session" they had decided they were going to be working together on a class assignment. Not hearts drawn on parchment, mooning over each other coupledom.

Ginny placed a soothing hand on her back and rubbed it in circles. "Sweetie, I don't understand how this happened. Last week you two were arch enemies. This week you are swapping spit. What on earth happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at her very concerned friend. She might have felt guilty yesterday to have been the source of such concern, but today she had genuine angst that needed comforting. Regardless of her twisting of the truth.

"I don't know." She repeated. "I guess at first I wanted to make Ronald jealous. Malfoy right? Guaranteed to get him to sit up and take notice. But it's kind of gotten out of hand and I'm in a little over my head here."

Which was a bitter pill to swallow, but her friend deserved at least a few nuggets of truth.

"That's OK." Ginny said. "Romance is supposed to feel a little overwhelming Hermione. A little scary."

"Are you telling me it's always like this?" Hermione sat all the way up and pushed her hair off her face thinking that through. "Honestly, I feel sick and yet I don't seem to mind. Why would anyone want to feel like this?"

Ginny gave a surprised peal of laughter and a one-armed hug. "Oh girl, sounds like you have it bad."

* * *

An hour later she felt refreshed and swept clean.

She hadn't realized how wound up emotionally she had been until she had let it all pour out to Ginny. Nothing had been resolved but just admitting out loud that she was having lustful dirty thoughts to a close friend had lightened her load significantly. However, the most surprising revelation came from Ginny's seeming acceptance of her attraction to Malfoy. Her simple shrug and naughty smile. Her cat got the canary smugness as she stated the obvious. "Well Hermione, what did you expect to happen when you decided to lock lips with such a pretty boy?"

She was a girl after all. Ginny took all her confusion and analyzing and deep reflection and reduced all of it to its simplest terms. Malfoy was pretty. He was six foot two inches of muscle and smirk and smooth skin. Talking to her friend had allowed her to make the decision that she wasn't quitting this until it was resolved. The back and forth, the tug, the on and off again feeling switch had all stopped. Now that she had her mind made up it was easy to tap into that vaunted Gryffindor courage and even enjoy the butterflies dancing around in her tummy.

A tap on the window offered a natural segue to the rest of her day and she couldn't help but smile at the owl that came straight to her when Ginny pushed the glass open. Draco's owl made his way inside and presented his leg so Hermione could undo the cylinder he had been burdened with, barely waiting until it was unbound before exiting in swirl of annoyed feathers. Hermione smiled after him feeling a weird sort of affection for the rude creature. Ginny laughed at her, delighted, and the girls quickly opened the package to see what was inside. There was no letter, just a slide of diamonds that pooled in her palm until she held up one end and she realized it was an exquisite tennis bracelet.

She really shouldn't accept such an extravagant gift. Ginny was making noises about the cost of it, and if she could tell by looking it was probably ridiculously expensive. Still it was beautiful.

She slid it over her wrist, Ginny helping with the delicate clasp and enjoyed the way it fit her just right. Her arm twisted right, then left, as she admired the light catch the pretty stones. She ought to send it back, sans note. But then she would be being difficult just for the sake of being difficult. If she was going to press forward as she had apparently decided to do, then she needed to pick her battles. If Draco was her boyfriend, then he would be giving her gifts. At least this was straight forward manipulation on his part, no cloudy motive to dissect.

She felt much more "herself" when she made her way through the crowds at breakfast and found a spot to eat at the Gryffindor table. She ignored the chatter and deliberately refused to try to decipher if any of it was about her and her torrid "romance" with Hogwarts poster bad boy. She had her own problems. She didn't need to let a dozen different opinions sway her own conclusions. She was good at solving problems specifically because she looked at things objectively. Malfoy was her problem and she would solve him.

Despite her resolve, she felt a certain rush of sadistic pleasure when her bracelet was noticed by Padma and she felt Ron's recoil. She had long ago resigned herself to the secret shameful fact that she had a bit of a vicious streak. She didn't have to fake her smile of genuine delight as she stretched out her arm to display the sparkling gift and reveled in Ron's poorly concealed upset. She also enjoyed Padma's frown. She was far too clever to remain blind to Ron's hostile jealousy over her. Hermione did not think it would be too long before the girl was back to breakfasting with the Ravenclaws.

Malfoy certainly did know how to orchestrate a reaction.

Wearing the gift implied that she enjoyed the perks of having an obscenely wealthy and generous suitor. Anyone who actually knew her well would know she could care less about the status of wearing a fortune of jewels draped over her wrist. She was more affected by the fact that he had somehow selected something that she would personally like. Ron ought to know better. Malfoy was a master at digging at a person's insecurities. Ron ought to see right through it. Instead he let a stupid gift twist his insides and make his blood burn.

Well, good.

* * *

She felt him fall into step with her as she parted ways with the boys in the corridor. They branched off for Divination while she made her way to Arithmancy. He was of a height with Harry but everything from the closeness of his body to the weight of his step was different. And disturbingly familiar. He did that thing he does where he dominated her space. Slipping in close and touching his breath to her ear to talk to her low and intimate.

"Did Weasel like your present?"

His index finger brushed the hollow of her throat even as he moved around slightly behind her with the obvious intent to loom. "Maybe we need a bit more. A matching string for this bare throat."

She realized that she had come to a stop in the middle of the corridor. Students parting around them. A stream of humanity going about their business while she stood still. Captured in a moment. She turned her head so she could see him, intensely aware of his position in relation to hers. Tilting her head in such a way that they did not touch but were close enough she could feel the warmth of his lips radiating against her own.

Only a lover would stand this close. And she did feel like a lover. Looking up at him. Aware of his lips and his breath and his touch on her throat. She knew what he would taste like if he bent his head just a fraction. She knew how his hands would feel if they grew bold and caressed her hips. She felt that low down tingle he brought out in her and didn't care if he noticed that her breath had shortened.

She tested her recent theory. The Theory of Want as she was calling it in her own thoughts. She arched her back, just slightly, bringing her shoulders into contact with him, implying surrender. Felt his breath catch, his hand flex against her throat. Did he want to kiss her again? Just how much of this was an act and how much genuine desire? Surely his pupils blown wide as he looked into her eyes was real. Surely his own shortened breaths were not a ploy.

She forced words out of a throat gone tight. "We are going to be late for class."

She rolled up and off him, using her shoulders as a brace, rolling her hips to bring her balance back to center. She didn't shrug him off just used a wave of her body go from leaning to walking that quickly outpaced his touch. She felt him resume motion behind her, using his longer stride to resume his place at her side. His hip bumping with hers as he put his arm around her, pulling her closer without slowing her down.

"Was that flirting?" The low pitch of his voice did not disguise the sharp cutting tone. She tensed. Knowing that he could wield cruelty like a knife and knowing she wouldn't like whatever knee jerk awful thing he would stay that would shove her back in her place. He could flirt. He could set her off balance and play with her mind and her emotions. But he wouldn't like the same treatment. He would want to be in control. "Have you been practicing in the mirror? Trying to learn to be a real girl? Let me tell you princess it came off a little contrived."

She twisted away from him to get through the door of the classroom alone. He was just angry she had gotten a reaction from him that he hadn't planned. Well she was not a piece on a chess board and he could kiss her Gryffindor ass. He gave her less than a handful of seconds to compose herself before he was pulling up a chair right next to her, stretching out his legs, giving her his trademark Malfoy smirk. But it was enough. She was able to get herself on point enough to give him a look of contempt before she pulled her Arithmancy book out and focus on her work so she wouldn't have to look at him. She didn't want him to see the satisfaction in her gaze as his bipolar behavior leant weight to her theory. She finally felt as if she had come out on top after an encounter with Draco Malfoy. Such a rarity was to be savored.

Her day had gone entirely too well. For the first time in a long time she felt in control of her life and her surroundings. She should have known better. Pride goes before the fall and her smugness should have been a warning flag that soon things would crash and burn.

* * *

Frustration simmering down low in his gut, Draco spent the afternoon on his broom. He had the house elves bring him dinner and avoided the whole castle scene and moodily waited until most of his housemates would be out before he made his way back to his room. He pushed every single thought of Hermione flipping Granger to the side and refused to pick apart that stupid encounter in the hallway where he had made an ass out of himself.

He was so focused on being in control of his emotions and getting his devil may care outlook back in focus that he had taken two brisk steps into his room, unbuttoning his cuffs as he walked, before his step slowed and his head turned towards his bed. His curtains were drawn. His hand fell to his pocket, gripping his wand as he made his way over to his sleeping place and listened. Maybe the house elves had done it when they made his bed. The thought echoed falsely in his head as he noted that only his curtains were drawn and he could not remember any time in his years here that he had found them closed without doing it himself. He considered calling for Blaise, but didn't want to waive his option of having no witnesses. He let his hand hesitate over the pull, feeling for magic, opened his mouth slightly to breath in any sweet taste of the dark arts. Nothing nefarious, but he became aware of a more subtle scent. A scent that followed him everywhere lately but only in the echo of his memory. It did not belong here.

He gently grasped the pull with his free hand and gave it enough of a tug to part the curtains to see inside. There she was. In his fucking bed. Long bare legs twined in his heavy blankets. Her school skirt had ridden up high on her thighs, just barely covering her round ass. Plain white tank top molded over unbound tits. Curls the color of coffee were bold and vibrant spread across blood red sheets. Her sweet face relaxed in sleep, plump lips parted as she exhaled her sweet breath on his pillow.

The scent of her, which had built up in the enclosed space rolled over him like a fog of lust. His blood temperature spiked, tripping down his spine, flooding his extremities. His cock swelling almost painfully against his pants. Merlin. Just last night he had laid right there, in the privacy of his drawn curtains, listening to his roommates breathe and snore while he stubbornly refused to touch himself. Eyes closed, imagining what it would be like if she were there with him. He'd woken up in a cold sweat, alone and aware just how big an empty bed could feel.

Maybe he was still dreaming.

He wanted to strip down. He wanted to crawl into bed with her. Kiss her lips, feel her come awake under his touch. Have her wrap those slender arms around him, mash those lovely breasts between them so he could feel their softness. Maybe she would do that thing she did, where her hips would undulate against him in a purely instinctual rhythm that made him lose all semblance of control. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his lips parted as his tongue remembered the taste of her kiss.

Frustrated with his visceral response he ran his hands through his hair and tried to shake off the white hot adrenaline that pulsed through him. He ought to know why she was here before he jumped on her like a mindless horny teenager. He didn't know what it was about her that stripped off the layers of experience and sophistication that branded him a Malfoy and left him a trembling idiot in her presence but he really needed to get a grip.

He stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the curtains closed behind him, draping them in shadow and creating the illusion of privacy. The room was empty but the door remained unlocked and any of his roommates could wander in. Just how the hell had she gotten in here with no one the wiser? It wasn't like they were in some abandoned classroom. She was in the very heart of Slytherin. He adjusted his straining cock with little success at relieving the pressure before reaching out a gentle hand to touch her shoulder.

She was warm and her skin was sinfully soft under his touch. He was acutely aware of his rough callouses as she sighed and shifted and failed to wake. He shook her gently, murmured her name prompting her to twist and wrap her arms around his pillow. Burrowing a bit, refusing to rise to consciousness. He twisted to follow her, bringing one leg up onto the bed and leaned in close.

He indulged his fantasy a bit, gathering a fist full of hair to move it out of his way so he could get low, whisper directly in her ear. Acutely aware of the rush of goosebumps his warm breath left on her flawless skin. The scent of her hair was overwhelming this close to her and he brutally shoved the compulsion to taste her neck down deep in the pit of his stomach and instead focused on her soft murmuring words, too faded to make out.

"What's that now sweetheart?" Voice low and strained as he released her hair to caress her neck. Ignoring his inner start at having let an endearment slip past his lips. She was sweet. So sweet his teeth ached with the need to bite down on that creamy perfect skin. Leave a mark. Brand her, no matter how temporarily.

She finally blinked awake, her eyes heavy lidded and soft with sleep. "Draco? " she whispered, just as low and husky as he had been. A moment of confusion as she visibly sought recent memory and then blinked again clarity returning to her gaze. "What time is it?"

He brushed his thumb over the warm hollow of her throat, drawing back slightly, unable to stop his questing fingers from dipping under the strap of her tank top to caress more bare skin. He wanted to twist his hand, grasp the soft fabric and pull it down. Get a taste of those nipples outlined by wicked cotton that enhanced more than concealed. He resisted and forced his brain to process her speech and answer like a normal rational person.

"After 9:00." He frowned down at her, becoming aware of a slight swollen quality to her lids. A barely there bloodshot sadness that stared up at him from her pretty eyes. She'd been crying. "You okay?"

He'd already been amped up from her mere presence. When her face crumpled slightly as she valiantly fought to keep from tearing up again, and failed, he flat out lost all rational emotional distance.

"Hey now," was all he managed to get out of a throat gone tight with anxiety before he found himself gathering up an armful of crying girl and shifting them to lay back against his headboard completely staggered by his unexpected need to comfort rather than seduce. She buried her pretty face in his neck and clung to him, fisting her tiny hands in his shirt while she soaked his collar. He stroked her hair as gently as he could manage and made soothing noises he doubted she could hear through her misery.

It wasn't long before she began to actively try to quit sobbing and he rubbed soothing circles on her back and she hiccupped and tried to control her breathing. Finally, she twisted her body so she wasn't sprawled totally on top of him, but snuggled into his side resting her head on his shoulder. As if she had done it a million times. As if she belonged there.

He anchored an arm around her and breathed slow and even. His usual glib tongue had abandoned him. The questions he had seemed insignificant and no other words surfaced to articulate his chaotic thoughts. He felt absolutely wrecked in the wake of her storm of emotion. He was not the guy to come to with feelings and tears. He had no idea what to say or what to do to sooth a distraught female.

He was not the guy that woman ran to for comfort or sanctuary. He was not the guy anyone came to spill secrets. He was seduction and snark and used money to solve his wealth of problems. He had no idea what to do with the tide of protective tender feelings that had risen up in him. How to wade through the hurricane of emotion she had unleashed to figure out what the hell to do to fix it. How to dry those tears. He wanted a smile, or even a snarl. He felt like he ought to do something, say something, but was completely out of his depth. Silence was surely better than saying the wrong thing.

"Can I stay?" She murmured with a voice still wet and choked. That's all she wanted? To stay here with him exactly where he wanted her? The relief was physical and he didn't stop himself from kissing the crown of her bent head. Surely instinct was the best way to deal with this since he certainly had no experience.

"Of course," seemed inarticulate but it was all he managed to say. He wanted to somehow express how much he wanted her to stay. How welcome she was. Words fell short of his emotions so he went with action. He shifted them again, moving her more horizontal and fumbling with the blanket to drape it over them. "Rest now."


	13. Sleepy Eyes

"Draco!"

Draco was warm all the way down deep in his bones. The sort of warmth that penetrated your soul over hours or days or months of slow heat. Hermione was like a furnace that chased away the ever-present chill of the dungeon and Draco flexed his body along hers, maximizing contact with all her delicious soft skin. He didn't think he'd ever felt so relaxed in his life. He turned his head a breathed in the scent of her hair and it was like being enveloped in a Patronus spell. He wavered in consciousness, drifting in that place between awake and asleep and found this delirious dream-state to be better than any fantasy he'd ever had.

"Draco!"

He must have fallen asleep he realized even as he heard his name repeated a second time. He blinked his eyes, cottoning on to the fact that someone was whispering his name and that was what had woken him up in the first place. The person, Blaise, repeated himself a third time, a little louder, followed by a sharp "get up you lazy fuck."

He glanced at his watch, seeing it was an ungodly 5 in the morning, and groaned silently. Rather than spring out of bed he burrowed deeper into his mattress, flexing his hand on Hermione's round hip to pull her closer and letting his eyes drop shut again. This was too good to waste with wakefulness.

"DRACO" Louder yet again. The Git was going to wake her. Reality was intruding rather rudely and he floundered a few seconds trying to figure out how to keep it at bay. This had better be damned important.

"Shut UP!" Draco finally hissed back when Blaise practically shouted his name in a whisper. Blaise wasn't stupid enough to open the curtains and try to shake him awake and Draco was grateful. Assault one classmate when woken unexpectedly and they tended to treat you as violent and dangerous while sleeping forever after. Ah the perks of being considered unstable and unpredictable. Even if his temper was as smooth as glass he wouldn't let anyone know it.

He cursed as quietly as he could while still being heard as he tried to figure out how to get out of bed without disturbing Hermione. He had to extract an arm from underneath her and there was no way to get the leg he had draped over her thigh off of her without jostling her and then there was getting out of the tangle of blankets without exposing her to the cold night air, all of this without pulling her hair. It was as dicey as any Quiddich game. As it was he was awfully glad she was asleep so she didn't have to see him at his most clumsy as he rolled out of bed to his feet barely managing to avoid falling on his ass or bashing his head on his night stand.

"Draco!" The idiot hissed again just as Draco whipped his curtain back and pushed Blaise away from his bed as he came out.

"What!" Draco snarled back. The icy morning air of the dungeon wrapped around him highlighting the loss of Hermione and he felt bereft and alone standing barefoot on cold stone. The wonderful rare relaxed feeling was receding rapidly being replaced with irritation. He was never going to be able to get back to where he was. She would wake up and life would resume and this moment would probably be gone forever never to be repeated. It wasn't like she was his and he would be able to share all his nights with her. This was a one time indulgence and now it was ruined.

Blaise shamelessly craned his head around to sneak a peek and Draco yanked the pull to close his curtains with a final snap that probably woke the girl if nothing else had.

"Harry Potter is downstairs demanding we release Hermione Granger into his custody. I'd assume that was insane if I hadn't just gotten a glimpse of her in your bed!. What the hell are you playing at Draco?"

Being friends since birth did give a person some personal license, and really he was amazed he hadn't been questioned more thoroughly by Blaise earlier, but he still had no intention of answering so he chose silence and he glanced around for his shoes. He vaguely remembered kicking them off and managing to get his tie undone one handed before he'd succumbed to sleep. He had to fish around for them blindly with one hand, not wanting to open his curtains back up and Blaise could take that smirk he was sporting and shove it where the sun did not shine. He did not appreciate Slytherin all-knowing smugness being pointed in his direction.

"You let him in the door?" He asked as he tried putting his shoes on without undoing the laces and found himself struggling with a task he'd been able to do unaided since he was three. Blaise was unable to answer for a few seconds as he tried to keep the noise from his snickering down. He sobered instantly when Draco whipped out his wand but luck most foul Draco didn't intend to hex his source of information. He merely needed help with the shoe situation.

Draco had a certain unpublished weakness that he usually kept hidden by not getting out of bed until the cobwebs cleared from his brain and he had enough mental fortitude to out fox everyone around him. Anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes in the morning he was an absolute mental midget and could make a Hufflepuff seem bright and articulate in comparison.

"Of course not. I told him to bugger off and that he was insane and that was when he started demanding to see you."

Done with the footwear Draco lurched to his feet glancing around for his cloak as he did up his cuffs. It wouldn't do to be seen by an outsider looking like he'd just stumbled out of a brothel. He got a glimpse of his hair in the mirror and was distracted long enough to straighten it.

"For Merlin's sake Draco hurry up. If he manages to wake up Snape banging on the door again we are all done for!" Draco felt on point enough to shoot the frazzled boy his patented snooty look without acknowledging that he was correct. Haste was probably wise so he checked his pocket to make sure his wand was secure as he made his brisk way to the door. He looked back briefly, wondering if he should wake her before deciding to handle the issue on his own. She'd fled Gryffindor for a reason and he wasn't going to make her deal with it until she was ready. Potter be damned.

* * *

Hermione learned new things every day. Today she learned that Draco Malfoy would never be able to sneak out of bed with no one the wiser. Also, he was a cuddle whore in his sleep. She smiled as she brought his pillow around to her front and wrapped her arms around it breathing in his scent while she eavesdropped on his conversation with Zabini silently vowing to stay in his nice warm bed for the foreseeable future. Her friends could kiss her ass. There was a wonderful freedom in not having any of them know where she was and she relished it.

Of course her short lived serenity was not to be. She repeated Zabini's words in her mind as she slowly sat up, straining to hear better. Surely Harry would not be here. She had no idea what time it was, but it felt like the middle of the night. Even if he had checked the Mauraders map to figure out where she was he had no business coming down here to harass her. If she had wanted to talk to him she wouldn't be hiding out in the heart of Slytherin to avoid him. She stretched out on her stomach to push one of Draco's shoes into his questing hand and smiled as he finally managed to grasp it and pull it out. It was uncharacteristically sweet of him to try so hard not to disturb her. Of course, he might just be praying that she stayed unconscious so she wouldn't blubber all over him again.

Burning with embarrassment she buried her head in her arms as Zabini got increasingly worked up as Draco took his sweet time putting on his shoes. Draco's voice was still thick with sleep, lacking his usual sharp bite and she enjoyed the way it played over her senses. They made their way out of the room relatively quietly and Hermione turned over on her back and stared at the ceiling. Zabini was right, if Snape caught her here everyone would be in trouble. She really was putting Draco in a bad position. He had been so kind to her, taking her in no questions asked. It really was adding insult to injury expecting him to take care of the Harry problem just so she could avoid her problems for a while. Where was her Gryffindor courage?

Maybe she should transfer to Ravenclaw. Though with all of her bad choices lately maybe she was no longer qualified. Hufflepuff was probably more her speed.

She sighed and sat up running her fingers through her hair and digging some sleep out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes still felt puffy and sore, she probably looked a right mess. She was willing to bet that Slytherin pureblooded girls probably cried pretty. Nice and dainty, with a handkerchief to whisk away any extra moisture. Well she was definitely a Gryffindor crier. Big noisy tears and plenty of hiccupping and fluids. She cupped her hand and huffed into it, trying to tell if her breath smelled. No idea. She scooted over to her shoes, placed neatly by the bed and retrieved her wand from the inside of the left one so she could do a basic tooth cleansing and face wash charm. She pushed her hopeless hair behind her ears and squished her feet in her shoes but hesitated at pulling Draco's cloak down from the hook hanging by the bed. She sure as hell couldn't traipse around the castle in her wrinkled school uniform looking like a homeless cast off. She'd already imposed on him plenty, what was one more thing?

The cloak was luxurious and heavy, black as night on the outside, green as jealousy on the inside. She swung it around herself, feeling small and cherished by Draco's scent. It was hands down the softest material she had ever felt against her skin. She flipped up the hood and cast the same Disillusionment charm she had used to come in unnoticed and peeked around the curtains. Two of the beds still had their curtains closed and there were no people awake and about. She glanced at the wall mirror as she made her way to the door, pleased to see only ripples caused by her movement. A spell well done was always a satisfaction. No one was in the common area, making her spell casting an unnecessary precaution, still such forethought had kept Harry alive often enough that she rarely regretted her tendency to over prepare. She glanced at the wall clock, noting the early hour, before silently opening the door and going into the hall.


	14. Perspective

Hermione hadn't expected to find the hallway empty. She stood there for a few seconds, momentarily at a loss for what to do next. She had followed Crabbe down to the commons the evening before and still wasn't sure what he had done to turn the bare stretch of wall behind her into a door so she couldn't go back in and wait. She had no idea where the boys would go to have a chat. She had assumed that they would meet out here in the hall. She almost sagged with relief when she heard Harry's voice and hurried down the hall to where the corridor branched off.

She rushed to meet them, muttering a spell to make herself visible once more but then decided to peek around the corner and get a feel for what was going on before she charged in ignorant. Draco had his beautiful back to her, legs braced, arms crossed, outwardly calm with his wand nowhere in sight. Seemingly perfectly relaxed. Harry gave dramatic contrast. He had his wand pulled, knees bent as if ready to spring into action. His wild hair almost bristling with aggression. He was obviously looking for a fight and she couldn't help snort under her breath in a very unladylike way. These boys and their constant boy behavior brought out the worst in her.

"What have you done with her!" Harry shouted. Malfoy's calm was obviously ratcheting up Harry's panic to unreasonable heights and Hermione had to roll her eyes. She should have just come out here on her own instead of stalling. She didn't know why she had even fleetingly thought it was a good idea to let Malfoy handle this. He couldn't diffuse a situation between snarling kittens, much less Harry when he was this upset.

"I haven't done anything to her." Malfoy replied gleefully. He may have had his back to her but the smirk in his voice was clear as day.

"You are lying! I know she's here!"

"Because she told you that she would be here?" Malfoy asked, slyly denying her presence when Harry obviously knew that she was here. Taunting him with the fact that Hermione hadn't said where she would be. She shouldn't have worried about putting Malfoy out, he was obviously enjoying having something over Harry. They were so juvenile. Hermione considered heading back the way she came and leaving them to it. Malfoy could finally win at something with Harry and Harry could take out his frustration on someone who deserved it instead of her. Win Win.

"I told you, I found her by magic!" Harry growled, irritated, "You let her go right now!"

"There is no known spell that will track a person inside of Hogwarts." Draco was so unattractive when he gloated. Really, he was.

Hermione sighed and squashed the surge of affection she had for Harry. She was still quite mad at him thank you very much. It was cold, and early, and here he was in the heart of Slytherin to rescue her. She certainly didn't need rescuing, but he apparently thought that she did. Harry had his faults, blind loyalty to Ron being a big one, but his redeeming qualities more than made up for it. For example, he always did everything with his whole heart, even saving friends he was very mad at. One way to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry loved you completely and totally was to watch him spiral down into irrational insane protective mode. Only Harry could make wild unreasonable teenage ranting seem completely justified. He was very close to snapping completely. Draco was an obstacle to finding her and if he didn't watch it Harry would blast right through him and to hell with the consequences.

That was Harry Potter, unscripted.

It was definitely time to rescue Draco before she ended up with a pet snake for a boyfriend.

"If you have harmed one hair on her head so help me God…" His finger pointing dramatically, clearly under the impression that Draco could and should be intimidated, as anybody with common sense would be. Of course, this was Draco Malfoy, he was too egotistical to know when to quit.

In the space of a stuttered breath Draco had gone from amused and condescending to vehemently angry.

"If I've harmed her?" He seethed, snaking into Harry's space, his voice dropping to menacing hiss. "She comes to me crying and you have the nerve to question how I've treated her?"

His wand came out with an angry snap.

"What the hell makes you think I'll let you anywhere near her?" He spat savagely, leaning in, every line of his body a clear threat.

Sparks erupted from the tip of Harry's wand demonstrating the level of his frustration and rage and Hermione rushed around the corner to intercept him before they could seriously damage each other. Merlin, that had certainly escalated quickly.

"That's enough Harry! I'm hardly being held hostage." She inserted herself in between the boys and laid a calming hand on Harry's arm when it looked like he was going to ignore her presence to attack Draco anyway. He looked down at her arm and the fury drained out of his face leaving pain and confusion in its place and Hermione had to take a deep breath to keep herself from flinging herself in his arms to comfort him. She was mad at him, and rightly so. "What are you doing here?"

He was so easy to read. Stubborn irritation tightened his lips and his arms crossed in front dislodging her touch. He looked at her then, narrowed eyes not quite able to hide the sheen of wetness that signaled angry tears. "I should be asking you that."

"I'm spending time with Draco. Why are you here?" Hands predictably curled into fists, deep breaths, as he struggled with reason. He glanced over her shoulder at Draco and whatever he saw there had him clenching his teeth. Another deep breath to center himself before he spoke, his voice straining to be calm.

"It's time for you to come home."

"I'm not ready to come home yet. I understand you are upset with my personal choices recently but I'm still very angry with you so talking about it is going to have to wait until we are both calmer."

Harry sighed, visibly deflating, and took her arm to lead her a bit down the hall. She allowed this, glancing over her shoulder to keep Draco from following. He scowled at her but stayed where he was. She didn't know why the boys in her life got so protective. It was like being surrounded by Rottweiler guards sometimes. She had proven herself a capable Witch, well-reasoned, and downright dangerous on occasion. Have another boy threaten her though and they all raised their hackles like angry roosters.

"Hermione I know we both said some awful things." He began, hardly sounding apologetic. Her eyes narrowed at him, the picture of his angry red face shouting at her spitefully still very fresh in her mind. "But you have to know I didn't mean it when I told you to leave Gryffindor tower. We would never expect you to bed down in Slytherin." He hissed, cutting his eyes Draco's way.

Hermione exhaled angrily and shook his grip from her as she crossed her arms. She felt genuine cruelness rise in her and reminded herself how much she loved and adored her friend. To some extent she deserved his anger. She had lied to him and manipulated him so she could piss off Ron. Now she had to live with the consequences of those actions. She didn't want to say awful things. She did however need to set the record straight.

"You Harry Potter are over estimating your impact if you think for one second you could drive me out of my home. I left because I wanted to leave. Because if I spent one more second in that tower I was going to do or say something so awful that I wouldn't be able to take it back. I needed to cool off and get my temper under control. You should have left me be. It is beyond rude to come chasing after me and try to force me to behave the way you want me to."

His mouth dropped open a little bit and she hated herself for her mean words even as she said them.

"Close your mouth, it makes you look simple. And go home. I don't need you to come and rescue me. I'll come home when I'm ready and not a minute before."

His face crumpled a bit and all her resolve to stay mad crumbled like ruins. Just like that she was in his arms, hugging him.

"You know I love you Harry." She whispered, holding back more girly tears. These boys wreaked havoc with all her sensible practical mannerisms. "Go on back to the tower. I'll see you at breakfast."

He pulled back a bit and gave her a rueful smile, rubbing her arms briskly. "You can't really expect me to run along home and leave you here?" He shot Draco a filthy look over her shoulder and gripped her a bit harder. "I know I lost my temper but you have to know you are not an innocent in this whole thing. You are lying to us and sneaking around. Jesus Hermione, you are wearing his clothes."

The disgust that dripped from his voice was a physical thing and she took a step backwards to avoid feeling contaminated. Harry might be trying his best to be reasonable here but he was lousy at deception and couldn't hide what he thought about her relationship. He expected to be able to talk sense into her. Get her to see the error of her ways. She could definitely see his point. Malfoy was a bad decision by anyone's standards but it was her decision. She'd had it up to her eyebrows with people trying to tell her what she should do and treating her as if she was ignorant. She crossed her arms angrily in front of her when he looked like he might reach for her again and gave him her coldest glare.

She couldn't handle the likes of Malfoy in her sleep. It was her friends she was having trouble keeping in line this week. She wasn't even mad anymore but clearly if she gave an inch he would take a mile. She had hugged him wanting to make up. He was digging his heels in because he thought he saw a chink in her armor. She settled for hugging herself and straightened her spine.

"I expect you to respect me and let me make my own decisions Harry. Your concerns are noted. Thanks for checking on me. I will finish my visit with my boyfriend and see you at breakfast."

The shade of his face as he gaped at her reminded her unpleasantly of Ron. Angry and red, mouth hanging open. She half wished Malfoy really was her boyfriend. It felt dirty to use a lie to make her point. But she'd done dirty things before in the name of justice. Harry was hardly Rita Skeeter but she wouldn't allow anyone to walk all over her.

"Ron was right," He snarled, his face twisted in anger. "You really are choosing that degenerate over your friends."

"No! My friends are trying to control me and make me choose. And I won't." She dropped her arms losing her temper and stomping her foot. "God Dammit Harry I said I don't want to argue. Quit picking a fight and go home. If you are here to check on me, you can clearly see I'm fine. If you are here to fight some more you can go to hell!"

"Whatever! I give up. All you women are crazy! I have Ginny yelling at me in one ear. Lavender on the other side. You getting in my face like caring about you is some kind of crime. Fine! Have your way. Date the Crazy Psychopath. Don't expect me to feel sorry for you when this whole thing blows up in your face." He whirled away stalking down the hallway. "Crazy flipping women. Why couldn't I go to an all-boys school."

"Fine!" She called after him. "Glad we worked that out."

"Don't be late for breakfast. Pancakes." He tossed over his shoulder as he turned the corner and Hermione had to stop herself from running after him to have the last word. Childishness was obviously contagious.


	15. Dawn Midnight Kiss

Draco gave her a few minutes before joining her in the hallway and slinging a friendly arm over her shoulder as he stared down the empty hallway with her.

"You want to talk about it?"

She was going to have to tell him something. She couldn't gate crash his bed and then pretend that nothing was wrong. Still, no need to get chummy. She gave him a sideways elbow and told him to shut up so she could have a few minutes to gather her thoughts. He squirmed away from her giving her his cockiest grin and putting his hands up in surrender and she almost resented the smile he coaxed out of her with his antics.

"I'm actually serious here." He said, stepping back into her space. He took her hand and tugged her in, a mere two steps, to kissing distance. She was aware of things like that now. How close two people had to be in order to touch lips. She pushed that awareness to the back of her mind and frowned up at him. He had followed her lead and backed out of her argument with Harry. He hadn't said a word, though his glaring could hardly be construed as silence. She couldn't turn around and lash out at him after he had respected her enough to stand back and let her have her say. That would be the easy way and he'd definitely earned the right to be treated with the same courtesy he'd shown her. He was still a guy though and he wasn't going to just let this go.

"I'm not defending the moron, but he is usually pretty loyal." His head bent and he touched his forehead to hers. "I can't imagine what he could have possibly done to make you cry like that."

She didn't have the heart to tell him. It wasn't Harry who had made her cry. It was Draco. Sure, she had definitely shed some tears during her angry retreat. She'd had wet cheeks as she spent un-clocked time pacing furiously through the various halls and nooks and crannies of Hogwarts. It was Draco however that had made her lose her shit.

She'd opened her eyes. Remembered the awful scene in Gryffindor tower. The way her friends had treated her. The people who were supposed to know her. The people who were supposed to love her. Treating her like an ignorant lovesick patsy. A gullible fool. And accusing her, Hermione Granger, of disloyalty. Accusing her, Hermione Granger, of being shallow and mean and vicious. As if they didn't even know her. As if they didn't even care. It didn't matter how badly Ron had treated her. It didn't matter how good she had been to them. What mattered was that she had dared to step outside of the Gryffindor rules. She'd dared to think for herself. They had turned on her like vipers.

To see Draco staring down at her with concern had tipped her mental state from fury to heartbreak. He was her literal enemy. A guy who had taken every opportunity to wound and tease her. The one person in the castle she would expect to take delight in her misery. Instead those pretty eyes, usually cold as ice, had been filled with worry. He cared about how she was feeling. Why she had been crying. He wasn't thinking about Ron or Padma or Harry. He couldn't care less how she should be acting or what she should be doing or how this was all somehow her fault. The look of kindness and interest and compassion on his face had caused her feelings to well up and overflow in a most embarrassing way.

She sighed and started walking towards home. She ought to go in and gather her things but mentally shrugged thinking to hell with it. Daylight would break soon and she didn't want to brave the dragon's den again and get caught by an early riser, or worse, Snape. Plus this way she didn't have to look at him while she talked. If he took her continued grip on his hand as an invitation then so be it. "It was the damned bracelet. The last straw, I guess."

"The bracelet?" She could hear the real confusion in his voice. This whole thing could be the poster child for unintended consequences. Draco wanted to rub his money in Ron's face. It had worked. "Potter lost his mind because I gave you a shiny trinket?"

"He saw it as a personal attack on Ron's insecurities." Which it had been. So what. Ron could attack her insecurities all day long. Or at least fuel them with his blatant disregard for how his behavior would affect her self-esteem and reputation. No one cared about that, but if she paid him back in kind then she was a monster. "I'm supposed to believe that all of this mess has been completely unintentional, that Ron is so stupid he had no idea the way he behaves would affect me. Apparently what I'm doing is different and worse because it's _Malicious_."

"Not Malicious." He bumped shoulders with her affectionately. "Vengeful maybe."

"I told you no one would really believe we were going out. Harry saw right through it and knows I'm being hateful."

"I don't think he'd be freaking out like this if he didn't believe it. I think maybe he believes it all too well and that is why he is overreacting."

Hermione chewed that over in her mind while they walked in companionable silence. Thinking she was messing up was one thing. Thinking that they were losing her to the enemy might be a little more intense for her friend. She knew he had abandonment issues. Maybe she should just spend some extra time with Harry. Reassure him that her new relationship would not change who she was or their friendship. Ron had certainly bungled the situation by cutting Harry out and obsessing over his new girlfriend. Maybe Harry thought he was losing all his friends and was overreacting. That was a little easier to swallow. Even if he was being an ass about it. It wouldn't be the first-time Harry had showed his rear when he felt left out.

"More than anything, this fight is my fault." She admitted. The need to confess her sins making her mouth open without her consent. "Harry's been pretty much taking my side on the breakup. When he took Ron's side over the bracelet I didn't take it well. Things got out of hand pretty quickly. I don't like being told I'm wrong."

He barked a startled laugh and she glanced sideways, strangely cheered to see his trademark sneer in place. "Potter is surprised that you don't like having your decisions questioned? How he managed to get through five years of co-education boarding school I'll never know. That isn't a Granger thing, it's a woman thing."

Maybe. She knew her faults. This whole thing was blowing up in her face and it was completely her fault.

"So did you write your father back?" She asked, wanting to shift the focus off of her problems for a moment.

"No, I've decided on silence. I expect a visit from him soon. Nothing blows up his skirt worse than being ignored."

She smiled to herself, glancing down at her feet. His hand was warm and strong in hers. His cloak enveloping and soft. The way he made her feel was a complete contrast. Draco Malfoy was cold and hard and mean. He woke up with an agenda and every move was calculated and emotionless. How she could know that in her head and yet feel nothing but safe and fond as they strolled down the hallway together was beyond her. Even now, with the subject of their plot out in the air, she felt close to him. As if she were his partner in this instead of his tool. When had that shift happened? Last night, this morning. She didn't know, and she had to remember to be careful. She might be the only one who felt that way. Still she couldn't ignore the easy companionable vibe between them. How easily he spoke to her about his father, which had to be a painful subject.

It was intoxicating to think that she was seeing a more private part of Draco Malfoy. That the boy who held her while she cried and tried to protect her from her friends was someone he had only chosen to share with her. She knew he was fiercely loyal to his friends. Had she earned that loyalty? Or maybe he was just being uncharacteristically nice because she had snotted all over him while she cried and he did not want a repeat of the incident. Maybe this was why girls cried so often, it appeared to be very effective for mellowing a guy out. Maybe he was just mellow in the morning. Who knew? She wanted to know.

Besides she had nothing to feel bad about. It wasn't as if Lucius was an innocent victim. Draco learned his ability to manipulate from his father, serves the man right if Draco used that talent against him. If she found the way he viewed the world as a chess board and used his quick and clever mind to manipulate people into a win for him as attractive. Well everyone had their quirks.

"How would you like to handle it when he gets here?" She watched her worn trainers peek out from beneath Draco's luxurious cloak with every step. It was ridiculously entertaining. As if the real Hermione Granger was refusing to be covered up. If Lucius Malfoy were to see it he would probably completely lose it and try to murder her.

"I doubt he is at the point where he would confront you. He still thinks this is all a mistake on the part of the paper. Apparently, I still have enough social collateral in this school that no one is reporting directly to my father on my school activities."

She shared a grin with him, since he was so visibly pleased with his own power. It was nice. To be part of this secret club. To hear him do something besides snarl and snark and complain. Who else could he share these types of victories with? Slytherin had always struck her as a kind of lonely house.

"It will definitely be entertaining when I don't deny our relationship. Maybe he will have a heart attack when I tell him I'm crazy about you and I will inherent early." His goofy smile was infectious and she couldn't help but laugh a bit at his dark stab at humor.

He drew her to a stop a full ten paces from the portrait with the fat lady, far enough away to not overhear a whispered password. She doesn't know why he still managed to surprise her when he used proper wizarding etiquette. She supposed she was used to the sneering hateful side of him and didn't see enough of the properly raised pure-blood. He probably knew which fork to use when the appetizers were out of order too. He cleared his throat a little. "What are you doing today?"

"I have a meeting with Professor Snape to discuss my senior thesis. I need to finish my model for my Astronomy project. I usually help the boys with their projects after lunch…" Her lips trembled dangerously and she ruthlessly squashed the thoughts circling in her head that made her want to burst into tears again. She would definitely work on repairing her friendships. But maybe not today. She took a deep breath and the abruptly stopped breathing at all when Draco stepped back into her space.

"You should have lunch with me." He murmured, his lashes sweeping down as he focused his gaze on her lips.

"At the Slytherin table? Don't you think we've done enough damage to my friendships this week?"

"Pshaw, fuck all that. I mean a real lunch. We can get a pass, pop over to London. I know a lovely place with the best bread you have ever tasted and sauce that is dribbled down from heaven." He made lunch sound pornographic.

"Sounds lovely, how many reporters will you be calling to ruin my lunch?"

"Haven't we done enough damage to your friendships this week?" His voice was low and intimate and rumbled down low in her bones. She probably ought to be medicated for liking the way he spoke to her. The way he made her feel. The guilty pleasure she got from thinking about having him all to herself for a nice intimate meal. Like a real date and a real boyfriend. A real danger to her sanity is what he was. Yesterday she had been all systems go. She had decided to just enjoy this roller coaster ride of her emotions, explore the sensual side of herself that only he seemed capable of bringing to the surface. Today, after all that had happened, she was understandably more gun shy.

Maybe she should distance herself and wrap up this plan and take what she had learned to her next relationship.

She reached up to undo the clasp of his cloak, intending to return it to him for the long walk back to Slytherin. He read her mind the way he did sometimes and brushed her hand aside to make sure the fastening was still secure.

"Keep it, it looks better on you anyway." His eyes had gone the color of dark gunmetal and he moved in closer, deliberately. He'd obviously never watched cheesy movies where the boy went out of his way to pretend he was stretching or something so a girl didn't get startled. He always moved with purpose and intention. Everything he did was deliberate. Her pulse doubled with anticipation and she felt like she was breathing in deeper than she was exhaling.

"Thanks for letting me crash with you." She whispered. Because it needed to be said. She'd expected irritated tolerance in deference to their plan. Instead she'd gotten a literal arms wide open welcome and comfort from an unexpected direction. It had thrown her off balance for sure, but she was grateful.

He raised a hand, slow and careful and inserted it inside the hood of his cloak. Cupping her face on one side gentle and firm at the same time. He was going to kiss her again. He'd walked her home, asked her to lunch, and now was staring down at her with carnal intent. She ought to be freaking out. Why wasn't she freaking out? His other hand coming up to caress her hip, completely entitled, like he had every right, felt natural. Felt right. In just a couple of days his touch had gone from something to fear to a dark craving. She didn't feel boxed in, she felt wanted. Her entire body was a secret she could only tell here.

She shifted closer, barely an admission, but she knew it was enough for him to read the signs.

"You have such a pretty fucking mouth." He whispered. His thumb pulling down, plucking her bottom lip, then sliding fingers back further into her hair, cushioning her head from the blow as his entire body pushed her back into the wall. She let her eyes slide closed as he bent his head to kiss her. Gave into desire and let herself touch him. The boy knew how to kiss. Pulling and tasting at her lips. Cradling her head and overwhelming her with his presence.

He rocked his hips against her and Hermione suddenly wanted the heavy fabric of his cloak off despite the chill in the air. She wanted nothing between her and that hard body of his. She gripped his shoulders, rocking back in that rolling rhythm he had taught her and she felt power and satisfaction rise up in her middle at the sound of his ragged groan of desire.

Whatever else was between them, this was definitely real.

White hot lust coursing through her veins. Every touch and sigh and taste emphasized. She could feel every pound of blood through her veins and imagined an echo in his touch. She fisted her hand in the crisp whiteness of his shirt, knew if she stripped it from him just how smooth and hard and perfect his blood warmed skin would be. She wanted to. She wanted to touch his bare skin. She wanted a lot more than that.

She wrapped a leg around his thigh and used the wall as leverage to push herself up against him and he practically ripped the fabric of his cloak getting it open enough to get access to her sensitive neck and leave those soft layered sucking kisses that made her weak with want. This was no good. She wanted to get him somewhere else. Somewhere she could explore her desire at length. She was done being interrupted and denied.

She decided right there, pressed up against the wall, that she wasn't going to tell herself no just for the sake of saying no. Why should she? She was of an appropriate age. She wanted this. He apparently did too. There was nothing wrong with a little physical contact with an extremely attractive male. But not here. In a cold open hallway. His warm strong hands found their way to her bum under her skirt, pulling her into him in a much more purposeful way that brought her awareness spiraling downward in a very intense way. Jesus. If it felt that good, to rub against her through all their layers of clothing, she could just imagine skin on skin.

"Come back to my room." He whispered, husky and low against her neck. The chill of the air was a stark contrast to his warm breath on her wet skin. She shuddered at the invitation. Turning her head to kiss his mouth again as she considered it. At some point he had pushed her hood down and her hair got in her way. She was forced to take her hand off of him to push the mess back off her face and he pulled back and stared down at her.

He took a shuddering breath and leaned his forehead up against her. Caressed her ass boldly as they both just breathed for a minute. Kneading and pulling and cupping. She hadn't thought a butt massage would feel so good.

"I need to get showered and changed before breakfast." She decided to pull back even as she gave an excuse. She needed to think about this seriously. Away from his hypnotic touch. Casual sex was part of the culture for her generation but she still needed to be rational about this.

"Okay." He acknowledged, before kissing her again. Soft sweet. Accepting. She had expected him to push her. To try to get her to change her mind. Maybe get mad. She'd halfway braced for a fight. But he was pulling back, letting her go. Giving her butt one last squeeze before removing his hand from her. He was doing up the clasp of his cloak, covering her back up, and suddenly she wanted to take it back.

She wanted to say to hell with breakfast, to hell with classes, and just climb him like a tree. A consensual tree. He could have stripped naked in the hall and done a sexy dance and she wouldn't find it half as sexy as his simple acceptance of her choice to say not now. She gaped at him like a stupid idiot, realizing that this was the turning point. She opened her mouth to tell him she changed her mind. Saw herself taking his hand and leading him to the Room of Requirement. Pushing _him_ up against a door for a change and having her way with him. But her body was too slow to keep up with her mind and he was placing something in her hand and walking away before she could get a word out.

She looked down in curiosity and found that he had given her the matching necklace to her bracelet. He walked much faster without her by his side and he was turning the corner before she could call out. What the hell. If she was going to sleep with the boy she certainly wasn't going to be ashamed of accepting a gift. She fumbled with the clasp a bit before getting it around her neck before whispering the password and letting herself into Gryffindor tower.


	16. Behavioral Conditioning

Harry wasn't sure when Hermione had come back to the common room but at 7 am she pranced down the stairs as if she hadn't spent the night elsewhere and he certainly didn't interrogate her about it. He was swamped with relief that she was home and didn't want to rock the boat. She had obviously taken more care with her appearance than usual. Dressed in a nice modest sundress with a hint of color on her lips and hair that had been slightly tamed with a headband. This was probably in deference to her brand spanking new Slytherin boyfriend but Harry didn't care. The bar was set pretty low after their early morning confrontation. He was just thankful she hadn't saw fit to wear Malfoy's sodding clothes. Having her disheveled and not dressed was not something he ever wanted to see again. When she gave him a warm smile and a wave he returned the gesture without a word and decided to make nice.

Breakfast was very polite. Their emotions were brittle and raw and everyone in their group of friends was doing their best not to poke or prod at raw wounds. Even Ron was on his best behavior asking Hermione to please pass the syrup instead of gesturing like a caveman while he stuffed his face like the disgusting teenager that he was. The fight had been private, kept quiet in the boys dormitory room with a muffllo and a locked door. So naturally the entire house was aware of every detail. Harry hadn't wanted to break his solidarity with Hermione when he knew she had struggled so much with recent gossip but he hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut after she had flaunted her stupid expensive bracelet in Ron's face at breakfast.

After the horrible fight that had erupted, that stupid shiny bracelet, now matched by a stupid shiny necklace around her throat, seemed completely inconsequential. It seemed as if every tiny annoyance that had ever been brushed under the rug for years had been pulled out and dusted off and shoved under a microscope. In some twisted way he actually felt better despite how emotionally wrung out he was. He supposed if their friendship could survive a breakup and then a Slytherin dalliance then they were definitely solid. At least they were not all walking around on eggshells not saying the things that bothered them. Everything had been said, and despite that they were all friends and sitting down and having breakfast. Harry felt swept clean. He wondered if a fight like this at the Dusley's might have cured some of his misery coming up.

Still, they were polite, and Harry made sure to be especially friendly so that all of Gryffindor knew that despite the fight they were still a trio and there was no ostracizing of anyone to be done. Since it was Saturday there were no classes and they made their lazy way down to Hagrid's for tea. No one mentioned Malfoy when the half giant asked about the news and after some bonding over rock hard scones the whole atmosphere was much more friendly like. Hermione obviously was equally invested in putting this all behind them because she blew off a meeting with Snape to hang with them and everyone knew how important her school work was.

Harry had taken what Hermione had said very seriously and had spent most of the morning thinking it over. By the time they had visited the library to pick up some books for Hermione and made their way down to the lake to join up with Padma and Ginny he had made a decision. Hermione had admitted that yes she had started going around with Malfoy just to irritate Ron. Which any moron could see clearly. At the time her flippant admission in the heat of their argument had made him see red. However after a restless sleepless night trying to see things from her perspective he could kind of see why she had felt so spiteful. The pleasant morning spent with Ron being so friendly and normal made his friends behavior over the last several weeks seem especially mean spirited. So he could understand it, sort of, even though their friendship should have come first. But she had also declared that despite the reason she had started seeing Malfoy, the result was that now she really liked Malfoy and intended to keep seeing him so they could all just get over it and support her.

Which was stupid. What kind of person just stood by and supported their friend while they did something colossally stupid like get involved with a guy like Draco freaking Malfoy who was guaranteed to break her heart? He supposed that it would be the same kind of person who climbed on invisible Thestrals in the middle of the night to be supportive of a friend when you thought they were being colossally stupid. He wasn't as good of a person as Hermione. He tended to lash out when angry and make snap judgements. But he wanted to be as good of a person as her. He wanted to be as good of a friend. He supposed he was going to keep his sodding mouth shut and support her like she asked. No matter how stupid it was.

Harry was just about to suggest they had toward the main hall for lunch when he noticed Malfoy sauntering in their direction. Think of the devil. He was fully dressed in three layers of beautifully matched clothing so he must be off somewhere. Probably having lunch with his slimy father. Good riddance. Harry had been fairly sympathetic to the whole public mess, after all he was well aware what it took to stand up to those pureblooded bigots. Sirius had barely made it out of the snakes pit alive. That was before Draco had decided to embroil Hermione in his filthy plots however. He didn't know what the ferret's angle was but he was certain that he had one. He always had an angle.

As it became increasingly clear that Malfoy was actually headed towards them. Harry assumed an aggressive stance, crossing his arms and staring the boy down. Hermione remained unaware of his approach and Harry used the opportunity to let all of his dislike bleed into his expression. He couldn't possibly imagine what in the world Hermione saw in this swaggering Git. If he had to judge, absolutely had to, he supposed Malfoy might be kind of sort of kind of good looking if you were into guys who were pale and groomed, which he most certainly was not. He supposed the boy was smart. He did really well in his classes and was ranked pretty high in the class standings. He guessed he could sort of see the attraction there for Hermione to have an intelligent conversation about her schoolwork if he wasn't sure that they had nothing in common to talk about. Some girls would care about his money and his family but Hermione was above all that. All in all it was a total mystery.

He almost wanted to ask her but the thought of getting an answer made his stomach queasy.

He finally noticed that Malfoy had his broom slung over his shoulder and a slow burn of fury began to boil in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know how this Slytherin slime had managed to worm his way into Hermione's affections but he needed to keep his cool. She had been surprisingly quick to defend the jerk and insulting Malfoy had really blown up in his face the night before. But the broom was especially difficult to swallow. She'd gone flying with Malfoy and had certainly never deigned to sit her prissy rear end on a Gryffindor broomstick. He himself had offered to take her flying more than once and had been laughed at, nicely. He pushed down his anger and disgust and tried to arrange his face in a pleasant expression not wanting to start another fight. He had decided after all to be supportive. Still he couldn't bring himself to smile in a friendly way.

He just wasn't _that_ good of a person.

* * *

Draco tamped down the wild urge to stick out his tongue at Harry Potter as he watched the boy actively struggle to keep his dislike in check as he approached the group of friends on the edge of the lake. He was pleased to see Granger laughing and enjoying her friends this afternoon after her awful evening. The group of them must have made up and the whole atmosphere was heavy with disgusting Gryffindor cheer. He felt a revolting moment of empathy for the boy who refused to die when he found himself wiping his sneer off his lips with every intention of being pleasant for Hermione's sake. How very Gryffindor of him. Maybe their sickening good nature was contagious and he was coming down with it. He briefly fantasized about going to see the nurse and demanding and inoculation against silliness and giggling.

His morning had been a series of frustrations. He'd gone back to his dorm to find an empty bed that smelled like girl and he'd had a very unsatisfying wank. Then he'd taken a short nap followed by a tepid shower and that lasted just long enough to miss breakfast. He'd asked a house elf to bring him something to hold him over and he'd gotten hard toast and warm juice. Dobby was most likely behind the crappy excuse for a meal. That unnatural elf hated his whole family and seemed to think that Harry Potter was God's gift to elfdom. He'd thought the elf had let bygones be bygones when he'd gotten the elf a pair of socks last yule, they'd had some pleasant interactions since, but his fight with Potter probably got him all stirred up again.

He'd already been irritated enough to chew nails when he'd gotten an owl from his father demanding he have lunch at the manor to talk about this "unpleasant business". He dashed off a quick note saying he was busy this afternoon and their meeting would have to wait. He would have expected to feel intensely satisfied over gaining ground on his plot to irritate dad and rebel against the Malfoy party line. Instead he felt edgy, expecting his father to pop up into his line of vision any second demanding they handle it now. Things were too unsettled to toss an explosive ingredient like Lucius Malfoy into the mix.

He'd blown off Hermione's questions that morning with a breezy confident act. The truth was he needed to get his wild emotions under control before he confronted his father. This whole thing was supposed to demonstrate his cunning and ability to make good decisions that would actually further the good name of Malfoy and mitigate the string of bad decisions that had damaged that good name so cavalierly. If he confronted dear old dad now he would probably just babble about how good she smelled and how her friends were mean to her, and top it off with a good old fashioned cry. He needed emotional distance to deal with his father and right now he had precisely 0 percent of it.

His patience was already stretched pretty thin when he had popped into the admin office to get a couple of afternoon passes so he could take Hermione to lunch. That McLaggen bloke was at the desk and had the stones to question him about whose authority he had to get a pass for Hermione Granger. Like he expected the girl to come down to the basement to stand in line at admin to get her own bloody pass. Despite the lax traditional aspects of the school you would think a Gryffindor especially would want muggle-borns to be treated with just as much courtesy as a pureblooded girl and not have to get their own flippin pass. A teacher had to step in before Draco was forced to hex the balls off the Tosser when he implied that Draco was somehow coercing Hermione to go around with him. How she could stand these Gryffindor's he didn't know. Didn't they trust their woman to stand up for themselves? Didn't he respect Granger enough to know that no one was going to make that girl do anything she didn't want to do?

Now he needed to be pleasant to Potter and a pile of Weasleys. Why did she have to have so many blasted friends? His scowl was creeping back onto his face despite his best intentions when Granger noticed Potter noticing him and turned to see what he was starting at.

His whole lousy day was worth it when she lit up the whole courtyard with her sunny welcoming smile.

He had no idea what he had done to make her look at him that way. He had an irrational urge to twist around to see who she was smiling at. That sort of expression was reserved for first year Hufflepuffs or Transfiguration teachers. He wasn't the sort of bloke who got those sorts of looks. Girls like Hermione didn't look at him at all usually. He got sly welcoming looks from women with worldly knowledge. He got come hither looks from girls with good family. He got co conspiring looks from fellow purebloods. He got looks of fear and looks of loathing and looks of envy from the entire world. Sunny friendly hello's were something he had zero experience in.

He put a little extra swagger in his step to make up for his earlier falter and smiled back at her with all the warmth he knew how to give. He probably looked maniacal but she still stood to greet him and didn't shy away when he kissed her cheek in a familiar hello. It was just chilly enough in the shade to give her apple cheeks a rosy tint and the sunshine washed her wild mahogany curls in highlights of gold and champagne. She smelled like wind and mischief and freedom and her smile caught him up in a wild feeling of being out of control and not caring. He felt alive and reckless and certain in a way he never had before. He liked the way she made him feel.

Why the hell couldn't he have her? Why the hell couldn't he keep her? Suddenly all his reasons and plans and plots seemed stupid.

Her presence radiated through him taking root in all his cold corners and bringing warmth. A stark contrast to the desolation of her absence all day, knowing that she wasn't his, couldn't be his, weighing him down. He was even able to ignore her friends, who stood and nattered at him. He hadn't realized how unhappy and tied in knots he was until now. He didn't even care that he must look an idiot as he stared down at her. He waffled some sort of response to them but couldn't bring himself to look away from her.

She stared right back up at him, warm and soft and sweet. Giving truth to the lie his stupid feelings were telling him. Telling him this was real. That she was his. He tried to stuff it back down, assume his cool, maybe sneer at her. The sensation had expanded. It didn't fit in the tight little box he kept in the back of his mind for soft sweet feelings. He wasn't even sure he wanted to trade this in for control. He felt like he'd caught a Norwegian Ridgeback by the tail. Like he was in a twin tailspin for the snitch with his hand outstretched a meter from the ground. Like he'd somehow managed to outmaneuver all of Gryffindor and abscond with their princess mascot. He felt good. He felt high.

He brandished their passes and she didn't even give a token protest, saying her goodbyes to her friends, handing out hugs the way she was always doing. Chatting with the Weasley sister a bit. Letting him help her slip on her cloak. All while he managed to behave himself. Hands shoved in pockets. Taunting Potter with his icy politeness. He'd been to a hundred society dinners. He knew how to make small talk with people he hated and that hated him, all underscored by that sharp smile that let them know that no one was fooled.

Then just that easy she was climbing on his broom as if she'd ridden with him a thousand times. He knew he must look dazed but managed to tip his head a bit to acknowledge Potter and Weasley who were predictably complaining. This was too easy. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the catch to come up behind him and ambush him and leave him feeling stupid. He was not the sort of guy who got this sort of girl. She ought to be laughing in his face. The anticipation left him suspended because nothing happened. Instead he was bracing himself around her, getting her steady on his broom, before pushing off hard and leaning into her, into the wind. He felt his magic rise up in him, overpowering nature, sweeping them into flight. Wrapping around them both as he rocketed upwards and then towards the apparition point. The world fell away sharply, heaven reaching out to envelope them.

He sped up, outdistancing the past and doubts and stupid games. The sun was sparkling on the great lake as he circled wide and it felt like his future. Bright and open and unexpected.

* * *

They stood quiet in the wake of Malfoy's flight for a few minutes before Ron turned to him. "So that's it? We are just letting him have his way? Letting him come in here and grab her hand and fly off with her?"

"We aren't letting Malfoy do anything." Harry replied firmly. He himself was a little shaken. The easy way Hermione had smiled at Malfoy, the way he'd smiled back at her. It had set him off balance. Somehow despite this whole mess he hadn't really been able to picture them being friendly with each other. It had seemed natural and nice and if Harry hadn't known Malfoy it wouldn't have bothered him at all. "We are letting Hermione do as she wants."

"But it's Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed predictably. His frustration finally spilling over now that he didn't have to be on his best behavior for Hermione. "Slytherin Slime! We can't really do nothing."

"Don't worry," Harry said confidently as he turned to walk back to the castle. "This is just a fling, it'll blow over soon enough."

Ginny's tinkering laugh made him even more nervous than her ominous reply.

"I wouldn't count on it Harry Potter."


	17. Oaks Grow Strong in Contrary Winds

Hermione wasn't sure why she was surprised that Draco would still be able to irk and irritate her. Just because she had grown to appreciate his humor and complexity and downright sexiness did not mean the boy wasn't still Draco Malfoy and all that entailed. She also wasn't sure why she was still surprised that she couldn't read him. Deciding that she actually liked him as a person wasn't going to cause him to suddenly become transparent. The smoke around his motives remained as foggy as ever. Case in point he'd shown up with his flipping broom.

He knew she was terrified of broom flight. He also knew she couldn't balk at leaving with him in front of the boys after all that had happened. She was forced to act like it was no big deal to climb on that teeny tiny twig of a deathtrap and smile as if she had no problem with it at all. They could have walked. They could have skipped, or hopped, or called for a carriage. If precious pureblood Draco Malfoy couldn't be bothered with plebian non-magic travel they could have checked out a portkey for the lousy 3-meter distance. Instead he had brought the broom.

Maybe she should set the damn thing on fire and teach him not to push her. She specialized in tiny undetectable portable magical fires. Maybe she ought to remind him that he was messing with a Witch of the utmost skill and a slightly manic violent temper. Maybe she needed to remember just who she was dealing with here. Give Malfoy an inch and he would take a mile. She had to maintain the upper hand, or at least equal footing with him, or he would stomp all over her and her heart in a merry dance of pureblood superiority.

Had he brought the broom to subtly put her back in her place and gain advantage after he had been so kind to her last night and this morning? Was he feeling so unbalanced that he felt the need to intimidate her and play games with her mind? Or did he just want to mess with Harry and Ron? The sweet way he had smiled at her seemed to indicate that he wasn't feeling hostile towards her but who knew what went on behind those mercurial eyes of his. Maybe he was being sweet to her just to throw her off balance. Maybe he was just a boy and liked broomsticks and she was assigning him motive without evidence.

Regardless, she got her little digs in. Placing herself with her back to his front instead of cuddling up with him. She'd worn a nice dress on the off chance he meant it about the lunch invitation and spent a ton of time on her hair to tame it. Now she had to dangle on a damn broom with her legs flashing the world and her hair would be destroyed. Either Draco didn't know any more about girls than Ron did or he had done this on purpose. He seemingly ignored her less than warm posture on the broom and wrapped himself thoroughly around her, scooting up close and leaving no room for air between them, shifting her slightly to a more balanced position and even giving her friends a nod before pushing off and taking to flight.

She forgave him slightly when she felt his magic wrap around her causing her skirt to modestly lay flat and keep her from flashing her friends.

Plus she found her irritation difficult to hold onto when she was desperately trying to hold onto her composure and sanity as they hurled through time and space like maniacs. He swept a wide turn, tilting the broom and her hands flung out without her consent to dig into his forearms to feel more stable, leaning back hard against him for balance. He had the nerve to give a low laugh in her ear even as he shifted their positions so she was cradled in the vee of his thighs more securely alleviating some of the topsy turvy unbalanced feeling of being on broomstick.

That was actually very nice.

She would have never thought that she would associate Draco Malfoy with words like steady and stable and safety. Still this new position shielded her from the whipping wind and made her feel like it would actually be difficult to fall. Plus he smelled nice. A nice solid, stable, warm wall of muscle and security that smelled familiar and comforting. She knew better than to think those mushy thoughts, even as she snuggled into his embrace and soaked up his presence. Reminding herself firmly not to over analyze. She had decided to just relax and enjoy the time she had with him. He was a smooth flyer and didn't jar her too much and she closed her eyes and thought about how much dating Draco Malfoy was like a roller coaster. Her emotions had been jerked back and forth far more than her body on this broom flight. This moment was no different. Vexation and fear on one stuttered breath and the next she was flooded with desire and want and overwhelming affection for him.

If she hadn't been in need of professional intervention for her mental state when she had embarked on this journey she would definitely need it when it was over.

"I supposed you want to land and apparate rather than fly into London." He murmured in her ear, close enough to the sensitive lobe not to have his words wash away in the wind. Rather than shout back or turn and upset her balance she just nodded firmly and he began their decent. She tried to scramble off the broom with some sense of dignity without seeming like she was in a big hurry to get out of his nice warm arms. She wasn't, but she didn't like the broom no matter what company attended her on it. Still the friendly almost goofy look he'd had on earlier had disappeared to be replaced by a much more familiar dark scowl.

"Why aren't you wearing my cloak? That thing you have on is too flimsy for flying." He didn't bother to dismount, instead hovering easily over the ground, his feet firmly planted to keep the broom steady.

"You can't be serious!" she laughed at him and tried to smooth her hair. "Not only is your lovely cloak six sizes too big for me I didn't know we were flying today."

She didn't bother to censor the bite in her tone and was amused to note that her attitude seemed to please him. He probably thought it was very "Slytherin". He leaned back, more relaxed, and then did some sort of fancy dismount that she was sure he practiced in the mirror.

"Your hair looks fine, windblown, very sexy." He leered at her as he got closer but she glared up at him unaffected by his brand of smoothness. Her hair probably looked like a rats nest and she had wanted to look nice. He always left her flustered and off balance while he waltzed around all confidence and charm. Screw him.

"It looks windblown every day. I wanted to look halfway decent for lunch!"

He took her hand and smiled down at her in that sincere sweet way he had earlier. The look that was so completely unfamiliar to her. She wanted to glance behind her and see who he was looking at. She wanted to hunt down and interrogate past girlfriends and see if he had ever looked at one of them that way. She wanted to grab his face with both hands and plaster those lips with kisses.

"I assure you Hermione, you look very lovely." He pushed a lock of wild hair behind her ear and trailed his thumb you're her jawline. "Your soft curls frame your pretty face just right. I will only apologize that the broom ride was unexpected, because it certainly did nothing to lessen how stunning you look today."

What ought to have sounded cheesy and stupid had her blushing like a novice who had never been given a complement and when he leaned in to kiss her she kissed him back without reservation.

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body close. Wanting to enjoy him and signal that things had changed for her. She wanted him to know that she was open to being physical with him. She realized as he dropped his hands to her bum and gave each check a familiar squeeze that they were alone. For the first time there was no one coming to interrupt or watch or judge them. It was just her and him and the birds and the bees.

It was a heady feeling.

He must not have cared or noticed himself because he was pulling back from her after only a few moments.

"I'm starving," He told her, immediately helping her take off her cloak which would not be appropriate for lunch. She couldn't help but shiver when his warm fingers brushed her bare collarbone but he seemed completely focused on food and didn't seem to notice. Bending to grab up his discarded broom and putting their things in a row of lockers she hadn't noticed before, probably shielded by magic if you didn't know they were there. He took her elbow and began propelling them towards the area marked for apparation. "We've got reservations. You will love this place. Are you comfortable with side-along?"

* * *

Having her eyes spit fire at him in the forest had put him back on firm ground for a moment. He knew how to deal with a Hermione who was mad at him. But now she was back to smiling up at him with those dazzling teeth and sparkling eyes. Holding his hand and saying nice things. How the hell did he do that? How did he make her go from mad to loving in a matter of minutes? It couldn't be the kissing. He'd kissed her often enough and it hadn't turned her sweet. More often it had turned her heels and made her flee from him. It wasn't the cheesy compliments. He'd told her she was pretty plenty of times. He had no idea what he'd done right and he sure as hell didn't know how to keep from doing wrong.

Having her happily stroll along holding his hand while she enjoyed their London stroll turned his stomach into a nest of doxies. This moment was far too perfect. A happy content affectionate Hermione was not for him. He only deserved the snarky angry witch Hermione. She saw something in a shop and made an excited exclamation and dragged him in behind her, never letting go of his hand. Chattering happily about this or that and leaning into him sweetly. Jesus, he might expire from the heady feeling it gave him. He couldn't quit smiling. He felt like the day after Samantha Svelte had popped his cherry, or the day he had made the Quiddich team, or when he held his wand for the first time.

He'd always scoffed at guys who went shopping with their girls. Even rolled his eyes at his father when spent hours at a time lavishing his wife with anything that caught her eye. He now understood the appeal of pulling out his purse and insisting on purchasing a lovely self-inking quill set that had drawn Hermione's interest because it looked to fit her hand better than the usual big hulking model. He felt no shame at being the one to carry their increasing purchases so she could flit around unburdened. He didn't care one whit when they were late for lunch or when she took forever to decide what she wanted off the menu.

All he cared about was the minutes spinning by till they had to be back to the school. The clock mocked him. Relentlessly ticking along, stealing the seconds till this idealistic time with her would end and they would be back where they started. The castle. With all of its burdens and expectations and complications. A thousand people watching his every move due to a hundred reasons he had no control over. Here and Now. Just him and Hermione, it was a flat out paradise. He'd never known what he was missing. He'd take an afternoon watching her enjoy eating over the fancy parties and expensive trips he usually enjoyed a hundred times over.

Any minute now he would open his mouth and ruin everything. She'd remember she was spending the day with Draco Malfoy and not one of her stupid cheerful friends and that sweet grin of hers would slip off her face. She'd pull away from him and stand cold and distant, arms crossed, and lash him verbally up one way and down the other. Any second. He knew he was messing up, over and over. He was being too formal and too stiff and too stupid. The corner of her mouth would tighten and she would look like she could almost frown. Then she would just smile and say something else. It wasn't anything he was doing. She was just choosing to be pleasant and easy going and fun. Why?

Maybe she was pleasant like this to everyone and he'd just never spent enough time not picking a fight with her to notice. He felt an irrational desire to pick at her and snap at her and invoke an angry response. That was unique to him. She saved her most mean viscous verbal lashings just for him. He'd never seen her lose her cool with anyone else the way she did with him. Now he was just another boy to her. Their kissing had been pleasant enough in the forest but had lacked that edge of fear he was used to summoning in her. She was just enjoying the kissing. She could be kissing anyone. If she were kissing Draco Malfoy in her mind then the response wouldn't have been sweet surrender.

He knew he was being stupid but he couldn't help it. Why did it even matter why she was going out of her way to be pleasant to him? She was generally a pleasant person. It didn't mean she was being fake. It didn't mean she was lying. Maybe she really was having a good time. He kept slipping. He kept frowning at her and saying snarky things. He kept trying to reign himself in but the more she deliberately ignored his bad behavior the worse it got. He was Draco Fucking Malfoy. He would not be patronized and he would not be coddled and he would not be manipulated.

Just what the fuck was she playing at here? Did she think she had conquered him? Did she think because he clearly wanted into her knickers that she could play him? Did she think she had tamed him? Had she?

By the time they had apparated back to the forest apparition point on the Hogwarts grounds he was spoiling for a fight.

* * *

Draco was grumbling about her being too prissy to ride broom stick and that he should call for a carriage when Hermione finally snapped.

She jerked her arm away from his light grip and turned on him fiercely. "What the Hell is your problem!"

What had started out as an extremely pleasant outing, improved by a clearly indulgent Draco Malfoy had gone very south. His mood had soured by inches and the more pleasant she attempted to be the worse it got. She didn't know what she had done to shift his mood from infectiously happy to bitchy and pouty but she had had enough. So sorry that spending time with her had ruined his day but lunch had been his sorry idea. So he could stuff it. She was not _that_ insufferable. In fact, most people were able to spend long stretches of time with her without turning into assholes. In point of fact, her morning had been filled with such people who actually liked spending time with her.

He gave her his patented snooty smirk and crossed his arms over his chest. Reinforcing his physical distance from her.

"You made it very clear this morning that you didn't approve of broom stick travel."

"Screw your broomstick and the ass hat that rode in on it. I've been nothing but pleasant all day!"

"Yes, I am aware. I've put up with your insufferable Gryffindor pretentious cheeriness all day." He spit out with an acidic venomous tone that she hadn't been subjected to in _years_. She had to stop herself from visibly recoiling and giving him the satisfaction.

"I am not pretentious!" She barked back, advancing into his space, refusing to allow herself to be intimidated by the likes of Draco Malfoy. "I'm sorry you spend your days and nights cavorting with Vipers instead of friends, but some people are capable of interaction without venomous repartee and calculated scheming."

"Spare me your sanctimonious preaching. Yes Yes, Gryffindor's are so much better than Slytherins, we've all heard the propaganda. Believe it or not people who are sorted into other houses don't actually sit around and cry that they aren't part of Gryiffen-Gits. In truth we'd all go insane if we didn't have several hours a night we are able to relax in our common rooms without being submitted to your holier than thou smug stupid propagandizing."

"At least the other houses are sorted according to merit instead of being sorted just because of who their parents were."

"You act as if tradition and history are foul words. Just because you don't have any familial pride doesn't mean the rest of us should give up our way of life to make you feel better about being new to OUR world."

"This is just as much My World as it is Your World, Draco Malfoy." She hissed, hating that she could feel burning in her eyes. The precursor to angry tears. She'd eat her hat before she let this smug pureblood see her cry. Belonging was a sore spot for her. What did he know? What did he know about not fitting into one world because your magic set you apart. Finally finding out that there are others like you. The excitement of coming to this new world, your world, where you would finally fit in. Only to find out that they hated you too. Not because of who you are, or what you did. But because you were born to the wrong world. The one that didn't want you either. What did he know?

He knew nothing.

Spoilt poor little rich boy. So obsessed with history he didn't see the right now clearly. She hadn't realized she had balled up her fists until one hit him solidly in the chest and he seized her hand, holding her to him.

"There's my girl," He murmured. Seemingly her fury had somehow set him at ease. The downshift was startling enough to catch her by surprise and she struggled to catch her breath and catch up with his changing mood. "I always wondered how they could have sorted someone so brilliant into that house of dullards, then I saw you this way and I knew. All that passion, too much for logical Ravenclaw. All that ambition, too much for passive Hufflepuff. There was nowhere else to put you. I wonder, if you'd been pure if they would have sorted you Slytherin?"

And there was her Draco, lips twisted cruelly, holding her tightly against him.

She couldn't help but bark a laugh even as she glared him down. "Pure and Slytherin? That is an oxymoron. Are there any girls over 3rd year that are pure in your house?"

"Can you even count yourself pure anymore?" He whispered. Suddenly she was aware of how close they were, that he was staring at her mouth. "After you've been consorting with a dirty Slytherin?"

Just what the hell was going on here? She was nice to him all day and all it did was wind him up and make him spit fire and ice at her. She threw her arms around him in this very forest and all he could think about was getting to London to have lunch. Lose her temper and suddenly he was that Draco again. Warm and inviting and tempting. Looking at her that way that she had never seen him look at anyone, ever. Looking at her in that way that made her feel special and precious and stupid because Draco freaking Malfoy had just insulted her and now she wanted to kiss him.

"Why don't you like it when I'm nice to you?" She found herself wondering out loud in a whisper. She hadn't meant to say it. No matter what she did she couldn't escape herself. She was Hermione Granger and when a question needed answering she couldn't help but blurt it out. When a question needed asked she couldn't help but ask, even if it was thoughtless and tactless and rude. His face darkened in a way she was familiar with and she knew that her eyes were probably filled with sadness for him. Knew he hated pity or concern or compassion directed at him. The great Draco Malfoy was above such plebian emotions. She couldn't help it, her heart twisted for him. Had so few people been nice to him that it was completely foreign?

His hand tightened on her fist in an almost painful way and his eyes went hard and cold, clear as glacier ice. He didn't, however, pull away. The cold physical distance between them earlier had thawed and there was nothing between them but heat and high emotion. "I like it," He gritted out, "When you are real with me."

A niggling thought stayed her mouth for a heartbeat as she pulled it from her swirling mind and examined it for truth. She'd been so wrapped up in her own insecurity it hadn't occurred to her that Malfoy might be feeling the same. He was just so…Draco. An impenetrable force of confidence and smugness and rightness. But he was still human. He was just as capable of self-doubt as the lowborn commoners. Hermione was not hailed as the smartest witch of her age for no reason. Blessed clarity swept over her like an icy breeze and she smiled up at him, hope blooming in her chest against all reason.

"I was being real with you Draco. I like being with you. I like the way you make me feel. It's nice. It makes me smile." She confessed despite her better judgement. Any vulnerability could be twisted and used against her but she couldn't stand the thought of him thinking she was trying to manipulate or use him. She'd been thrilled about having lunch with him. He'd had her flying on cloud nine. Butterflies in her stomach. Joy in her step. Until he'd gone sour for seemingly no reason. She'd tried her best to show and not tell. To let him know with actions and not words that she cared. It hurt her heart to think that he might believe that she was faking it.

She ducked her head, closing her eyes, pulling her Gryffindor courage from the pit of her stomach to press on. "I don't have to pretend with you and I don't want to. Not anymore. I care about you and I don't care if you know. I like to spend time with you and want to do it more."

She straightened her backbone and lifted her face, brushing his soft lips with hers. Once, twice, three times. Gentle kisses. At some point the hand holding her fist had gentled and his other arm had come around her back. She felt completely safe and cherished in his embrace. She knew it was way out of left field. She would have never in a million years imagined herself here. It was what it was. This was what she wanted. Come what may, right now she was where she wanted to be. If he shot her down he shot her down. At least she hadn't run from it. She was a lioness not a mouse.

"I want to kiss you all the time." She whispered against his lips, "Touch you and taste you and hold you."

When he said nothing, she pulled back a little and opened her eyes. He was staring down at her wide eyed with shock, his mouth slightly open. She had managed to make Draco Malfoy speechless. If she never saw him again and this was the end of their, whatever this was. It was worth it. Just for this moment of him being quiet. The moment stretched out a little too long and she felt defensiveness coming on even though she tried to shove it down.

"So There!" she declared a little forcefully, wanting to provoke a reaction. Stop this waiting on tenterhooks for what he'd say. Of course, he could never do anything as expected. Instead of saying sweet things back, or laughing at her, or any one of a hundred snarky phrases she knew he was capable of, instead he was bending his head and kissing her.

Not the sweet kisses from this morning. He attacked her mouth. His hand finally released her fist to tangle in her hair and leave her free to grip his robes to bring him closer to her. This was better than sweet words for sure. No words could convey the desperate edge to his touch. The want in his kiss. The need in his grip. This was Draco Malfoy being real. This couldn't be faked or polished or watered down. This was Draco uncensored.

Biting her lips and tasting her tongue, using his hand to cup her bum and pull her into his very real, very hard, desire. She wasn't even embarrassed. She was beyond being shy. Instead she was greedy for his touch. She slipped her hand inside the back of his robes to grip his warm strong neck and let her passion take her over. She didn't pull away from him, instead she let her hips roll in a way that felt natural in response and thrilled at the soft growl he let loose between kisses when she rubbed against him firmly.

She was shocked enough to pull back when he delved beneath her skirt and skimmed his fingers under her panties to get a handful of bare cheek, but she didn't deny him access and when he kissed along her jaw she titled her head back and let him kiss and suck her neck sending shivers and goosebumps racing along her skin and her spine.

When he buried his face between her breasts she arched up into him to create lovely friction and he pulled back a little.

"Hermione, I have to stop kissing you now or I'm going to end up shagging you in the dirt." He said, voice gone gravelly and low and so warm.

She smiled at him, the sweetest she could manage through her panting breathlessness. "That's okay."

"No, it's really not," He answered, releasing her ass and smoothing down her skirt, pulling further back. It wasn't the coldness from before but she felt a moment of dejection. His body might want her but he didn't, not really. He must have seen something in her eyes despite her best effort to not show any reaction to his rejection at all because he cupped her face with both hands and gave her the sweetest kiss. One, Two, Three brushes of his lips. A mirror of her own kiss earlier. With her lips swollen and her breath fast it felt supercharged and electric and overwhelming.

"If you want to get me into bed Granger you are going to have to cook me dinner and take me somewhere with sheets."

She was far too wound up to laugh at his attempt at dry humor, but she couldn't let him have the last word so she gave a small amused sound and countered back. "You are such a spoilt rich boy. I suppose you need pillows and candles too."

He kissed her again, just as soft, just as sweet. "I bet you look lovely by candlelight."

A compliment even as he put just a little more space between them. Released her face, to skim both hand down her arms, rubbing them a bit briskly as if she might be cold separated from his warmth.

"Seriously, do you want me to call for a carriage?"

She looked up at him and decided to think about what he needed instead of her fear.

"No, we can take the broom. I trust you."


	18. The Other Shoe

The taste from her honey tea had long been kissed off her lips and now she tasted as pure and sweet as the first time he’d kissed her. On a lark. On a whim. How could he have been so stupid? How had he managed to screw up and stumble and mishap this much and still get the girl? He had no idea. Must truly be the Malfoy in him because he was quite certain a fellow like Longbottom would have been cursed to St. Mungo’s and back by now.

 

He couldn’t stop kissing her. While he was getting her into her cloak. While he was situating the broom. During the short flight. Before he let her off the blasted broom. Over and over again as they made their way back to the grand hall. It was like she had magnetized his lips. He just couldn’t let her go. Couldn’t stop touching her, tasting her.  Sweet warm wet kisses that made his head spin. He was literally dizzied by her presence.

 

He pushed her up against the brick of the wall and devoured her mouth. And she fucking let him. She twined her arms around him and rolled her hips into his and kissed him back with lips and tongue and teeth and he almost died from breathlessness.

 

The world around him faded to shades of grey and black and coal. The noise of Hogwarts, the chill in the air, the pressure of being Draco Malfoy, all of it melted into eddies of colorless washed out nothing. Hermione was technicolor. Everything about her vibrant and bold and alive and real.

 

She had tried him on for size and wanted to keep him. With all his rough edges and sharp points. She didn’t care. She didn’t care who his family was, or what his net worth was, or if he could live up to it all. She wanted Draco Malfoy even when he wasn’t so sweet to her.

 

He found himself vowing in-between dizzying mind-blowing kisses that he would be sweet to her as often as he could. She made it so easy it was hardly a chore. He’d buy her anything she wanted. Library’s full of books and dozens of house elves to free and labs to research in and anything else her heart desired. He’d take her anywhere she wanted. Paris, America, Egypt. It didn’t matter. Anywhere there was some interesting history he’d dig it up for her and let her have at it.

He’d be quiet while she studied and love her down from head to toe when she was done. He’d be decent to her blasted friends and go to stupid parties if she wanted. He’d give her his best and probably fall short but at least then he could say he had done the very best to woo and keep Hermione Granger.

 

Since he had no idea what he’d done to attain her, he had no idea what to do to keep her. He’d just have to try everything. Surely, she must know. What had he done? Why she wanted him? Would he be completely off his rocker to ask her? Perhaps she could write an essay about it, forty-four inches that he’d need a thesaurus to read.

 

He pulled back a bit, knowing he was being stupid. Everything in him was screaming to take advantage. She was clearly responsive to him, consensual. He could take her by her hand and lead her to the room of requirement on the seventh floor. He could conjure up all the pillows and soft sheets she could ever want and take his time with her for once. He was fed up and frustrated with being interrupted and denied. She wasn’t denying him now.

 

But she was not some dirty little shag. She wasn’t some pureblood who knew the score. She was Hermione freaking Granger and he’d pushed his luck enough already. The stakes were too high to blow it on a stupid gamble. He’d tried to pull back in the forest, slow down. She was just too close and too touchable and smelled too good and had such soft skin and kissable lips and the sweetest taste.

 

He just couldn’t seem to help himself if she wasn’t saying no. Why wasn’t she saying no? He was pretty sure she was a virgin. Surely a girl like her needed…more. More than kisses and complements. He didn’t know what she needed, he didn’t know what she wanted, but he wanted to make sure he gave it to her. He didn’t want her to have regrets. He couldn’t think through such serious thoughts when the girl of his dreams was running her fingers through his hair and pressing all that sweet flesh against him.

 

“What’s the matter?” She broke the silence and he leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for distance and struggling to form coherent words that wouldn’t push her away but would make his vague half-formed thoughts clear.  

 

“I feel like a complete wanker for saying this but maybe we are going too fast.” He whispered against her mouth. Inhaling her sweet breath, exhaling his uncertainty. She’d admitted she cared about him, she’d embraced him physically, he could be a little brave too. “I don’t want to fuck this up, rush it.”

 

He held his breath, forced himself not to kiss her again. To wait. To let her decide what to say. Silence stretched out for 9 maybe 10 seconds before he fumbled on, clarifying. “I want to be with you right. I mean, not be with you, but be with you. I mean the relationship. I want the relationship to be right, solid.”

 

God, he was a wanker. Apparently if he spent too much time in a lip lock with the girl he lost all coherency and eloquence.  He was implying she would sleep with him, implying a relationship they hadn’t defined. What the hell was wrong with him? He was usually so good at this.

 

He rushed on before she could draw the wrong conclusions and hex him. “I mean I want to have a relationship with you.  I don’t want to mess up my chances for that by mauling you in a public hallway like a clueless moron.”

 

“There is zero percent chance of that Malfoy.” She said, voice firm and assured. He blinked at her, a little shocked. He hadn’t expected a flat out no, she’d let him kiss her nonstop for the last half hour. Her hands held her to him, grasping his collar when he would have drawn back. Opened those wet kiss-swollen lips to go on. “I mean zero chance of kissing me messing that up. I would like that too. A relationship, with you, and the mauling too.”

 

She was blushing. More than just the flush from arousal. A bright pink stain on her lovely cheeks. “Just because I’m a little inexperienced doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want. You can trust me to say no if I need to. You are right about the hallway though, it is public. Maybe we should go somewhere not so…public.”

 

“Alright then,” he whispered. As if words might break the spell she was under and she’d realize she had just committed herself to Draco Malfoy, prat extraordinaire. Well, he was hardly a saint. He’d done his due diligence, she had said yes. He’d never wanted anything so bad in his life and had used up whatever scruples he might have had trying to slow things up. If she wanted privacy he’d get them there quick as Quidditch. Just as soon as he kissed her one more time.

 

Jesus, she set him on fire. Wrapping those lovely arms around him and kissing him back. No one kissed like Hermione Granger. She gave her whole self over to it. The way she did everything else. Ever a quick study in a matter of days she’d learned just how he liked to be kissed and touched and seduced and he’d never known desire like she inspired in him.

 

With Herculean effort, he peeled himself off her, took her hand so he could do her bidding and take them elsewhere. He stole three more kisses as they tripped their way down the hall, no idea in his head how he was going to navigate stairs with an armful of delicious girl that he couldn’t seem to let go of.

 

A cleared throat had him stalling hard and twisting around to look. He knew that distinct sound of disappointment anywhere. His father was staring him down from where he was waiting in front of the double doors to the grand hall.

 

It was a reasonable place to wait for him as it was soon to be the dinner hour and most students found the time to be in their seat for an elf cooked meal far better than any their mums might conjure up.

 

He looked as imposing as Draco’s first memory. Expressionless and tall, arms folded across a broad chest that Draco had yet to attain. Hair perfectly groomed. Clothes perfectly matched in three layers of soul-sucking black. Eyes so bottomless you could lose yourself to fear in an instant.

 

Draco was so shocked he ran into Hermione and almost knocked them both on their asses. They struggled to stay upright for a second and he steadied her with both hands on her shoulders while he took a quick breath and tried to steady his emotions.

 

There he was. Lucius Malfoy. His own personal boogie man and guaranteed Hermione repellant. A lesser woman might have taken the excuse to flee when faced with being caught making out by the Lord of House Malfoy in the middle of the hall.

 

Instead she gained her balance and took his hand in hers and turned to face a man who made grown Death Eaters tremble in their boots. Hell, he’d made Draco tremble often enough. Her courage steeled his spine and he reminded himself he was not that scared pale-faced boy who would do anything to please a father who knew nothing but disdain for everyone and everything around him.

 

He had grown up, he had grown out. He had become his own man. It was why he had embarked on this whole plot in the first place. To prove to his father that he was his own man. To prove it to himself.

 

He stepped closer, gave a mocking bow, and in his most formal voice introduced Hermione. “Father, may I present Hermione Granger. Hermione, I believe you know my father Lucius Malfoy.”

 

 


	19. Red Handed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Dedication: A shout out to LightofEvolution who was so kind as to read over this chapter and help me with the flow and dialog. Thanks so much for stepping in as beta reader. I appreciate it so much. It really made a difference!

The silence that lingered after this announcement was as cold as arctic winter. Draco fancied that he ought to see his breath in the metaphorical chill. Hermione’s hand clasped in his was the only source of warmth. The days of trembling knees and desperate whining however were over so he punctuated the uncomfortable atmosphere with his most obnoxious grin, guaranteed to piss of the elder Malfoy.

 

He wished he had something clever to say. Usually he had a plan, but in this case the objective had shifted, and he hadn’t had time to play catch up. He was too busy playing kiss face. Now he was caught with his metaphorical pants down. Thank goodness things had not progressed so much that he had been caught with his actual pants down. The thought cheered him a bit, and he took a deep breath spiced with Hermione’s scent and concentrated on staying calm and centered.

 

He could no longer gloat about how his vision for fixing the family reputation was so much better and cleverer than Lucius’ stupid idea to marry Pansy and how clinging to these outdated notions were just leaving them in the Dark Ages. He had new priorities, and all of them involved not alienating his new, dare he even think it, girlfriend.

 

Hermione would take a cold rundown on how good she was for his reputation personally. Clever maybe, but the girl didn’t have a self-serving bone in her body. For some reason she seemed to have developed a positive opinion of him. He’d like to not remind her that all his bones were firmly stamped with the Slytherin brand.

 

Finally, after Draco counted sixteen throbs of his father’s forehead vein, the elder Malfoy deigned to speak. “I see that my assumption of false rumors and contrived lies were erroneous. You are in fact keeping company with the Granger girl.”

 

Apparently, Lucius had decided to just ignore the introduction to his only son and heir’s girlfriend and only talk to Draco like an entitled pureblood snob. Draco wondered if his own forehead vein was throbbing. He found himself far more furious on her behalf than he would have expected.

 

“Perhaps you should get your news about my private life from me. Then you would know I’ve been exclusively seeing Hermione for a while now.”

 

“See whomever you like on your own time, Draco. I certainly have no desire to know or hear about your conquests,” His father punctuated this with a glance at Hermione that conveyed several swear words worth of censure. “However, when I start getting bombarded with owls that you’ve been seen traipsing all over London making mooneyes at the swot of Hogwarts, then I have to step in and do damage control.”

 

“Damage control? What the _fuck_ do you think I’m doing? This whole month has been nothing but damage control.” Draco snarled quite venomously, taking an angry step forward. All thought of being intimidated fleeing in the wake of his unbound fury.

 

His father whipped out his wand, fast as lighting, and Draco found himself reacting just as quickly. He stepped in front of the girl, pushing her out of the line of fire before even pulling out his own wand. His father gaping at him in shock had Draco flushing in embarrassment. He didn’t really think the man would attack a student in the middle of Hogwarts. That was so stupid. This was his father, not some random brute from the Dark Lord’s ranks.

 

Chastising himself, he put his wand away as quickly as he had pulled it out, but the damage was done. His father wordlessly cast his patented privacy charm and insulated them in a bubble of impenetrable silence, but no one spoke for a long minute. His father was obviously reassessing the situation and deciding how to react. Draco had put himself between Hermione and his father. He’d made a choice, and it hadn’t been what his father had been expecting. Hell, he hadn’t expected it either. She moved up beside him again, taking his hand, as if nothing was awry.

 

“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt your family drama, but I do have a pertinent question,” Hermione spoke up in her usual no-nonsense tone that had missing from their interactions lately.

 

His father turned his attention to her, blinking owlishly, obviously a little flabbergasted to be addressed in such a manner. “Do you have Draco under surveillance?”

 

Draco barked a laugh at his father’s deadly sneer. She was so priceless. Being on this side of her unabashed interrogative nature was a lot more fun than being her target. He could understand why her boorish friends always looked so cheered. That wasn’t the sort of question you asked a mere acquaintance. Not that it stopped her, nothing stopped her. She was a force of nature.

 

“Miss Granger, I understand Muggles may have certain unsavory customs I’m not familiar with, but surely having your own offspring tailed is not so commonplace that you would assume such behavior of a respectable wizard.”

 

No one did condescending quite like his father. It was an artform he had perfected: voice dripping with disdain, eyebrow quirked just right so that everyone knew he thought she was a little on the daft side, backhanded insult to her background. Implied answer without actually saying whether or not he had been followed. Draco was torn between being insulted on her behalf and giving into the maniacal laughter that was trying to bubble up out of him.  


“Consider yourself respectable, do you? Bold supposition to make when we are standing here, talking about owls you received tattling on your son about his lunch date. So, do you have him followed all the time, or just during the school year?”

 

His father’s eye twitched, a dangerous precursor to violence for those who knew him well, and Draco decided to intervene before things got nasty. “He’s not having us followed, we’re just famous.”

 

“Oh, come on, Draco. You don’t actually believe that grown wizards and witches, people with families, jobs, lives of their own, have nothing better to do than come running to his ear with gossip about who is dating who? Seriously?”

 

Draco finally looked away from his father to blink at her. That exasperated fondness was a tone he’d heard directed at Potter or Weasley or dozens of other assorted Gryffindor’s. The scathing imperiousness she usually directed at him was missing and he had to look at her to see if she was aware of it. It made him want to kiss her again, to hell with their audience.

 

His father took advantage of his dumb staring to bogart the conversation again.  “Your position in wizarding society makes you prominent in the public eye! You are best friends with Harry Potter and the literal poster girl for the muggle-born agenda. Surely you must be aware that every move you make is scrutinized by the press and the powers alike. It’s no surprise that I heard about your outing quite quickly. The only surprise is that you didn’t expect it.”

 

Lucius let out a cruel laugh and gripped his cane with both hands, giving her a once over that had Draco’s good humor taking a hard left towards irritation. He focused a death glare on his father and willed him to pay attention to the fact that Draco was not happy about the way this meeting was going. His father was about to say something else cutting and mean, and Draco found old resentments boiling up in his middle despite his best efforts. Why couldn’t the man just be cordial and polite to his girl? It wouldn’t kill him to extend basic courtesy to someone he had just declared important to him.

 

“The rumor mill often fails, however, which is why I am here for clarification. For instance, the word on the street is that you are reasonably clever. I can see that is an overblown exaggeration. Now, if you would excuse us, Miss Granger, I need to have a private word with my son.”

 

Hermione stepped closer to him though, and her grip became firmer. She opened her mouth to protest, and Draco could practically feel the worry vibrating off her person. It filled him with a warm glow he wasn’t familiar with and a terrible understanding at the same time.

 

“No worries, love,” Draco drawled, not taking his gaze off his father. “Contrary to popular rumor around here, my father has never so much as laid a finger on me in anger or otherwise. I’m perfectly safe.”

 

“Are you implying that people indicate you are somehow abused at home? Who would dare to tell such tales?” His father's voice had gone deadly soft, and once that tone would have had Draco quaking in his obnoxiously expensive boots. He was old enough now to understand that this deadly fury was not directed at him, and rarely had been. Despite it all, he was loved, he knew that. Secure enough in his place to bark a harsh laugh and give his dad the unabashed truth.

 

“Everyone. Foul garbage like that is common place since you decided to make our name synonymous with one of the most notoriously evil wizards on the planet. Did you think that stain wouldn’t spread? People think the absolute worst of us now.”

 

That announcement left a quality of silence that Draco was unfamiliar with, and he realized he had a rare opportunity here: a moment when his father might be off balance just enough to actually listen. He turned to Hermione and gave her an apologetic smile. “I do have some stuff I need to discuss with my father. Can I meet you later tonight, after dinner?”

 

She searched his eyes, no doubt looking for deceit for a few seconds, before she nodded slowly. “I’ve got my rescheduled meeting with Snape, and you have Quidditch practice. Tomorrow will have to be soon enough.”

 

Then she blew his mind. His brazen, beautiful, bold girl went on tiptoe and gave him the sweetest kiss goodbye in the history of goodbye kisses. As casual as if she had always kissed him goodbye, as if she’d done it a million times. Right in front of his father without a trace of shame or embarrassment. 

 

She peeled away from him with a look for Lucius that was nothing short of devious and defiant, tipping her head ever so slightly in acknowledgement towards his father but not deigning to give him a polite goodbye in the wake of his shamefully rude treatment of her. She left him then, keeping her grip on his hand until her footsteps drew them apart enough for his arm to fall lonely at his side.

 

His father was speechless, as was he, and they both watched her walk away until she had turned the corner, and the click of her sensible shoes had faded.  They looked at each other, and Draco found himself coloring slightly. It was one thing for your father to know you catted around a bit. It was another to have a lovely woman kiss you in front of him. He smiled then, a slow Cheshire smile that let Draco know that the mood had shifted between them.

 

“Quite a girl you have there, son. Let’s go get a drink, shall we?”


	20. Identic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: Big huge wet sloppy thank you to LightofEvolution. This chapter was almost unreadable before she got her mitts on it and deciphered the dialog and commas and made it legible.

The vibe between them was nice and relaxed and struck Draco hard in the chest like a bludger. It was reminiscent of times they’d gone out for a bite when he was a boy, and the nostalgia had him feeling vulnerable.

He and his dad used to be so close. Conspiring against his mother to sneak sweets in the house, playing pick-up games of Quidditch, rough-housing. Back when he’d been the favored son and heir and could do no wrong. Back before he’d gone to Hogwarts and become a constant source of disappointment. Back before this Dark Lord business had soured the way he viewed his father.

They were silent as they made their way back to the apparition point and absconded to a tiny bistro in France that had absolutely the best pie and private rooms so drenched in cloaking spells that the lighting was dim. Finally, warm mug in hand, desert ordered, his father broke the silence. “The Granger girl, I don’t recall her being so pretty.”

Draco nodded and sipped silently. His father would hardly care how pretty his un-approved girlfriend was. A few more seconds stretched out before he went on, “I also don’t remember her being quite so impertinent.”

Draco let a smile curve his lips a little before he forced his face back into impassiveness. People always said he looked and sounded just like his father. He usually didn’t see it. But that slight irritation was so reminiscent of his own frustration just a few days ago that Draco was amused.

“She’s always been impertinent,” he agreed cordially. He took another sip of his drink and was pleased when the waitress promptly brought the pie he had requested before leaving them alone again. He had barely finished lunch, but this particular pie was too good to bypass. He’d have to throw in an additional 45 minutes of cardio to justify it, but it was so worth it.

“How long have you been going around with her?” His father’s voice was deceptively casual. As if they were discussing the weather instead of Draco’s deliberate rebellion with a muggle-born. It made Draco want to be cheeky despite knowing that this whole getting along thing was likely to be a casualty of his mouthiness. Oh well, nothing to be done about that, it wasn’t likely to last anyhow.

“Nine glorious days.” Draco couldn’t keep the smug satisfaction from his voice and didn’t even try. His father had never struck him before, but he certainly struggled with the impulse now, judging by his pinched lips and white knuckled grasp on his mug. Well, good. He could be the one frustrated by seemingly stupid rash decisions for a change.

“Damn it, Draco,” Lucius snapped and punctuated his sharp hiss with a slap to the table that made everything on its surface jump an inch. “This is serious! If the Dark Lord were to learn about this, we would all be in grave danger!”

Draco threw his fork down on the table, pie forgotten, as the warm feelings between them went up like so much smoke. “Exactly! What the hell are you doing? You are putting the family in danger. Can you even protect Mother? What is your backup plan here? He’s on the losing side. You’ve already avoided prison once by the skin of your teeth. Is our position in this brave new world you are fighting for so precarious that I can’t date someone without all of us dying?”

“That’s enough!” Lucius threw his napkin on the table and gave his ‘father knows best’ sneer that made everything inside Draco shake with fury. “You have no idea what you are dallying with here. You are a child, barely 17, you can’t possibly comprehend the reasons behind the decisions I’ve made. You just have to trust that I know what I’m doing and fall in line.”

“Not going to happen,” Draco sneered. Even if his father had told him the sky was blue and water was wet, he wouldn’t have agreed to that condescending, angry tone. “You want my compliance? Make me understand. Because right now, what you are doing makes no sense. It goes against everything you have ever taught me about what is important to this family.”

That apparently was enough for Lucius to lose his ever-present cool and resort to shouting. “Don’t talk about what’s important to this family while you cat around with some mudblood trollop all over town!” 

“Damn it! Hermione is not the issue!” Draco shouted back and stood so quickly that his chair was knocked back, throwing his own hands on the table, leaning forward, furious that his father wanted to compartmentalize this huge topic down to who he wanted to shag. Like that even mattered in the grand scheme of things.

His father stood as well, stooping to get down low in his face, hands also braced on the table. “The hell she isn’t! You want me to toss our entire way of life out the window over some chit you barely know!”

“Forget the girl.” Draco snarled, “The decisions you make affect all of us. Mother has that Rodolphus showing up at the house, among others.  These people want to brand me! For life! Tell me I’m missing something,” he pleaded. “Tell me there is some grand design and plan in place that I don’t know about. Tell me that this benefits us in some way. I see nothing good.” 

His father stood up fully, angry and pale faced and trembling. After a long stretched out moment, Draco stood too and crossed his arms defensively.

“If you had concerns of this nature you should have brought them up sooner,” his father bit out, obviously trying to reign in his temper and speak in a more normal tone of voice. It was too late for civility, and Draco didn’t cave.

“Like you would have listened.” He didn’t care that he sounded like his 11 year old self, petulant and whiny. It was true. His father never listened to anyone. There was no point in having this argument now. He wouldn’t listen. It was better for Draco to go his own way, set his own path, like he had with the whole Hermione plot.

His father stooped, righted his chair, and calmly sat as if they hadn’t just been shouting at each other at the top of their lungs. “I’m listening now.”

Draco gaped at him like an idiot before scrambling for his own chair, trying to process that statement, deciding how to respond.

“You’ve always told me that Malfoys are pragmatic. We are the best because we strive to be. We have power because we command it. We have knowledge because we demand it. This business with the Death Eaters is beneath our dignity,” Draco said calmly. He paused, and his father made a ‘continue on’ gesture rather than respond. Draco took a gulping breath to give himself a second to gather his thoughts.

“You have us backing the wrong horse. I don’t think that the Dark Lord can win. And if he does win? That is even worse. What do we even benefit if they win this war? A couple of muggle slaves? We can afford serving girls and painted ladies."

"We don’t need him in charge. _We_ should be in charge. Look at what he expects of us! Unwavering devotion and loyalty. I don’t want a life of servitude bowing and scraping to some psychotic master. I am not a servant. You are not a servant. What is best for the Malfoys, that’s what ought to be driving us.”

“So you want to switch sides.” Lucius voice was low with shocked disbelief.  

“Yes! To _our_ side. The Malfoy side. To hell with dark and light! What is good for us?” Draco demanded more than asked, and his father gave him a look.

“It does bear some consideration. Perhaps we should move the family interests up the hierarchy. Perhaps I have been neglecting the long game.” Lucius was fairly serious and Draco knew his mouth was hanging open. 

Perhaps if he had been less shocked to hear this, his father’s voice wouldn’t have changed to a condescending hiss. “We already are aligned pretty firmly with the dark side. Just what would you suggest we do to distance ourselves? What grand plan do you have to solve this problem? How would you possibly extract yourself from a mess that has been brewing since before you were born?”

All excellent questions and Draco was ashamed to admit to himself he had no true answers. But they needed to do something!

“You want to just put an announcement in the Daily Prophet? ‘Malfoys defect - you can like them now’,” his father sneered hatefully, and again Draco was surprised to see himself in the expression. When someone pointed out his flaws, he tended to get hostile and defensive too. So how would he deal with himself? 

Draco drew his composure around himself and tried something that had always worked for him: Entitlement. “Why are we telling anyone anything? We’ve got enough dirt on everyone to bury anyone who fucks with us. Just say, ‘Piss off! We are Malfoys, and we do what we want.’”

His father barked a laugh, startled enough to wipe the sneer from his face, and Draco smiled back. For once in his life he felt like a co-conspirator with his father instead of a useless subordinate, and it felt good. It felt right.

“I suppose whatever we want includes you dating that insufferable Granger girl.”

“Better than Pansy,” Draco scoffed, letting incredibility color his tone. “How can you expect me to settle for someone so mundane? Maybe before, but now I know she is nothing but a washed out pale imitation of what I could have.”

“Look, Draco, I get it. You are right. Let’s stop and think and plan a little better. Pansy isn’t going to do it for you. Okay. We will work together and find someone else. Anyone but Potter’s little mudblood friend.” His voice dripped with disapproval, and Draco sighed. He would have given anything to have his father agree with him, tell them they would work it out, before Hermione. Now, it didn’t matter. Things had gone too far for him not to fight for her. He wouldn’t settle, not now.

“You don’t understand, Father. This girl is different. She’s special. She’s bold, and beautiful, and brilliant. The whole fucking package. You know, she took on her friends for me, the whole of Gryffindor house? Faced them down like a lion. And she could care less about the name Malfoy. She likes _me_ , Draco, not the heir to a wizarding legacy, _me_ , the slightly manic manipulative prat you raised. You want me to give her up? Why? Because some guy we aren’t even related to might disapprove. I don’t think so.”

His father leaned in, his expression earnest, his tone passive. A tone Draco had never had directed at him. A tone that he used sometimes to convince his mother when demanding didn’t work. “There are lots of lovely girls out there, Draco. The Greengrass sisters for instance, you could have your pick between them.”

“It’s too late, father,” he shook his head, honestly regretful to be disagreeing with his agreeable father.

“I don’t know what to tell you, but I think I might be in love with her.” He declared it out loud, defiance stamped on his face. Maybe he wasn’t in love, but it was certainly as close as he’d ever come. It was special, and powerful, and real. He wouldn’t let his father take this from him. He wouldn’t.

“You can’t be in love. You’re just a boy.” His father scoffed, and Draco was sad to see that the condescension was back. He’d overplayed his hand and tossed out that rare opportunity for his father to see him as an equal rather than a subordinate. Oh well, it wouldn’t have lasted anyway. Arrogance was an enduring Malfoy trait.

“Are you going to go home and tell my mother that a boy can’t be in love at 17? Isn’t that how old you were when you married her?” Draco crossed his arms defiantly and leaned back in his chair, quirking an eyebrow. Even if he had lost the high ground, he’d still go down swinging.

“That was different. Narcissa hailed from The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. We had the blessings of our families. Marrying her was not some insane plot to piss off my father.” Lucius was beginning to sound exasperated. Business as usual then. It was strangely comforting.

“And if she hadn’t been? If Sirius had been the Lord of Black? Or better yet, Potter? If Potter had been Lord Black. Would you have married her? Or would you have let her go to marry some pre-approved simpleton your father picked out.”

“That is an outrageous scenario. Potter the Head of Black?” Lucius snorted, leaning back in his own chair and crossing his arms.

“Potter _is_ the Head of Black! He inherited the title last year when his godfather bit it,” Draco forced his point; it was true.

“This is not the same. You barely know the girl. I courted your mother, formally, for a year before we were wed!” Lucius almost shouted, throwing up his hands, and Draco put an imaginary point on his side of the board.

“I guess we’ll talk in a year and see where things stand then.” He smirked at his father with more cheer than he had felt in a long time and was relieved to see that his father was fighting a smirk of his own.

“And her blood status?” Lucius asked, sounding almost resigned to the fact that Draco didn’t seem to even care about something that had once been so important.

“A perk if we are extracting ourselves from the Death Eater mess.” Draco said with a sly smile, inviting his father to see the advantages that could be gained by aligning themselves with Hermione Granger.


	21. The Truth Shall Set You Free

Hermione was very rarely frustrated with the magical world. There were so many wonderful uses for magic, and the science of it was so fascinating it kept her up reading for nights on end sometimes. However, at times like this, she wondered why the amazing power of magic couldn't be harnessed to create a cell phone alternative, so she could shoot Draco a quick text message.

She knew on some level she was being irrational. Lucius Malfoy might be the bane of the Wizarding World, but he was Draco's father, and he had managed to survive seventeen years living with him. Still, she couldn't help but be nervous. Draco had certainly never in his seventeen years done anything as rebellious as declaring that he wanted to date a muggle-born and to hell with their family tradition. He was usually pretty big on upholding the dignity of the Malfoy name. Lucius might just lose it completely.

If she was honest with herself, she was just as worried that Lucius would get Draco to change his mind and this wonderful new relationship would be over before they really had a chance to enjoy it. The thought of Draco breaking up with her had her so anxious she was twisting her hands.

She was frustrated about _other_ things as well. Lucius had the absolute worst timing on the planet. One second she'd had Draco's taste on her lips and his hands in her hair. Drowning in that unique way he made her feel. Like all the world had dropped dead and it was just the two of them. The next second Draco's father had intruded and dumped a lifetime's worth of baggage on her soul.

That seemed to be the source of the trouble. This thing with them...it was very fragile magic. Any outside interference seemed to wreak havoc on the delicate enchantment they were under. This was intricate and special and invasive. They needed to be fierce guardians of this new passion. Give it time to grow wild. She would not allow her friends, or his friends, or their families, or _anyone_ to trample on the new growth of a masterpiece like this.

Hermione decided to go to dinner despite not being very hungry just to have something to occupy her - and almost immediately wished she had not. Padma for some reason had not attended dinner, and her twin Parvati was giving her the stink eye. Ron was sitting awfully close, but Parvati could go ahead and bite her. She had been friends with Ron for years, long before he had a girlfriend, and she was not going to allow Parvati to make her feel uncomfortable about that close friendship now.

So she made herself a tiny plate and took tiny bites and tried to ignore the girl. Finally, Parvati spoke up, and the tone of her voice could have chilled butterbeer. "So, Hermione, where is your _boyfriend_ this evening?"

Could she be any less subtle? Hermione restrained herself just barely and managed not to roll her eyes. She took a delicate mouthful of fruit and made Parvati wait while she chewed and swallowed. "Draco is having dinner off campus with his father this evening."

Ron stiffened beside her just barely but said nothing, and Hermione smiled to herself. He may not like the whole Draco situation, but even he could be taught to keep his opinions mute. Parvati narrowed her eyes a bit and opened her mouth to say something else, but Colin Creevey a few seats down jumped in, and she was forestalled.

"That's right! I heard you ran into Mr. Malfoy today, Hermione. Was he terribly rude to you?" Hermione chewed her next bite while she remembered barely concealed sneers, condescending tones, and outright dismissal.

"No more than he is to anyone else, I suppose," she answered truthfully, giving Colin a small smile to show her appreciation for his concern. One would think that would be the end of the conversation, but when gossip was afoot, Lavender would have her say.

"Well sure, Draco was right there. I'm sure he was on his best behavior...whatever that is." Lavender smiled dreamily in Hermione's direction. "It's so terribly romantic how protective he is of you. Did you hear about that awful row he got into with Theodore Nott last week when he got disrespectful?"

"No actually, I hadn't heard," she answered, slightly floored. Romantic? People thought Draco was _romantic_?

"Did you see the flowers he sent her the other day? There were so many she could have filled the prefects bath with them three times over," Ginny added to the conversation, and Hermione put her fork down and just listened as the gossip continued. She had seen public opinion shift lightning fast before, case in point the Triwizard Tournament, but it was still eerie to see Draco's master plan play out in real time right before her eyes.

The mood at Gryffindor table had definitely gone ass over teakettle. All at once, Draco had gone from public enemy number one to a brave underdog fighting tooth and nail for love against his tyrannical father. It was unreal. She shared a look with Ginny who gave her a saucy wink, and Hermione smiled genuinely for the first time all afternoon.

She refused to be one of those girls who let her whole life be consumed by a boy, so she went on about her planned evening activities despite her increasing worry. Her meeting with Snape was predictably fraught with tension and slurs on her person and did nothing to put her into a better mood. Even the library offered little of it's usual solace. The calm peace and quiet was ruined by her loud thoughts. She found herself rushing to finish her assignments, a rarity for her. She felt like a nest of doxies had taken up residence in her stomach, and she couldn't concentrate on anything.

She even tried to go to bed early. Taking a quick shower, throwing her hair in a French braid and getting into her most comfy jammies - none of these rituals did a bit of good. She just stared at the ceiling in her room and worried. This wasn't necessarily a new feeling, she'd always been a worrier, and she had a feeling Draco Malfoy was going to cause her more grief than Harry and Ron ever had put together.

Hoping she wasn't blowing everything being a needy, clingy girl, Hermione tossed off her covers and went looking for her Gryffindor Golden slippers. She enveloped herself in Draco's lovely cloak for warmth and set a disillusionment charm before she left her room. The common room was full and noisy, and Hermione directed a fond glance at her boys, playing wizards chess by the fire.

At least someone wouldn't be up worrying tonight since the boys would think she was snug and safe in her bed. If anyone had been paying attention, they might have noticed the ripple in space of her moving through the room, but young people especially were unobservant, and she found a disillusionment charm to be satisfactory most of the time. She doubted she would have any trouble with the Slytherin dormitories as long as she didn't run into Snape.

* * *

 

Draco stood in the shower so long the water ran cold, letting the hard drops beat the back of his neck until he began to shiver. He felt emotionally wrung out and needy.

He wanted _Hermione_.

He wanted to go to Gryffindor tower and try to figure out how to sneak in, find her bed and just curl up with her. Hold her until everything bad and confusing and wrong in his life faded into the background and all that was left was her sleepy sighs and indecently soft skin and sweet scent.

How could he be her boyfriend? He didn't even know where the girl _slept._

It was late anyway, and she had told him she would see him on the morrow. He just needed to suck it up and go to bed. Even if he did know where she was, he had no right to go barging in on her sleeping and demand her time and attention. Pansy used to pull that nonsense. The last thing he needed to be was clingy and needy. She'd run in the other direction.

He'd expected to feel powerful and elated. He'd fantasized about this moment for years. He'd stood up to his father and held his ground, and his father had even conceded some things. He'd made actual progress in etching out a future for himself outside of the Death Eater legacy.

Instead, he felt anxious and weird. The whole thing felt incomplete. He was still waiting for the big slap down. The big lecture. It was a let down. Like he'd dived through a rainstorm to catch the snitch, but when he looked, all he had was a fist of air and empty victory.

He was back at Hogwarts, his father was back at home, and his future was untethered for the first time in his life. He just wanted to hold onto something solid and real, and he didn't know anyone more down to Earth than Miss Hermione Granger.

Moping a bit, he made his way to his room, way more melancholic than he ought to be. Maybe he'd have a stiff shot of firewhisky. He'd sleep well and hard, and everything would be more hopeful and shiny in the morning. When he was due to see his girl.

 _His_ girl. There was a terrifying thought.

He'd gone a few steps into the room before the _déjà vu_ hit him. The curtains around his four-poster were drawn tight.

_No._

He couldn't believe it, even as he strode over purposely and grabbed the pull and saw it with his own eyes:

Hermione Granger in his bed, wrapped around his pillow, dressed in elephant pajamas. Not giant pajamas. Regular pajamas with tiny little pink elephants on them. He blinked and closed his mouth with a snap before he drew flies. She was covered from head to toe in oversized cotton, feet encased in fuzzy socks, hair twisted into some sort of messy braid, and she was still the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. He was instantly hard.

How had she known how much he would need her tonight? He stood and stared at her for several minutes, letting her presence wash over him. His heart kicked his breastbone like a drum, and his breath was ragged in his ears. She was here. She was fucking here. He forced down the dregs of panic that told him something was bad and wrong and that any second the whole thing would explode in his face. There was no reason for that. Why couldn't he just relax and enjoy?

He kicked off his shoes, stripped down to his shirtsleeves, and then hesitated. Maybe something awful had happened again. Maybe she wasn't here for him, maybe she was just hiding out. Did it matter? If something awful had happened? The important thing was that she had come to him. Surely it would be okay for him to carry out that stupid fluffy fantasy he'd had about just holding her tight, sleeping. Just because his cock was straining against his pants didn't mean he needed to whip it out. He could just hold her.

Unless she wanted to take up where they had left off earlier. That unruly thought did nothing to calm his libido. He shoved a whole cartful of dirty thoughts to the side and decided it was _his_ bed and _his_ girl, and he could hold her if he wanted to.

He cast his usual silencing charm, carefully pulled his curtains closed, and climbed into bed with her. He tried not to wake her, sliding up close and personal, putting an arm around her, breathing in the smell of her slightly damp hair. He bit his lip, keeping his silence, when he shifted closer and her round ass pressed up against his pelvis. He shifted even closer, relishing the lovely pressure. She stirred almost immediately, rubbing back against him innocently, and he let out a ragged sound despite his best intentions to be quiet and let her sleep.

A sleepy, "Draco?" had him smiling like a loon. His name came to her first, even when she was just coming out of sleep. He hadn't lied to his father. He _did_ feel ridiculously soft and fluffy towards this girl. Every time she gave the smallest clue that she felt the same, he soared. When she gave the tiniest rejection, he dipped. It was like being on a broomstick in a tropical storm.

He kissed her neck, just because he could, and reveled in the feeling that he had her all alone, in his bed, and could take all the time he wanted with her. She tasted like girl and sweetness and goodness and all of the things he had never even thought he had wanted until recently. Now he couldn't imagine going without. He ruthlessly squashed his insane compulsion to suck on her neck like a twelve year old until a hickey bloomed, to mark her in a dozen places where everyone could see.

Holding on to restraint by a fingernail, he kept his kisses feather light and sensual. She was a classy young lady and could hardly walk around covered in welts and red splotches that loudly screamed _'Draco was here!'_ He was a wealthy pureblood; he could afford to drape her in diamonds instead. Still, he was surprised at how visceral the urge was to mark her physically.

Gone were the days of casual girlfriends. The shallow courting game he'd played for years would never be good enough again. Now he knew what he had been missing. Now he knew why people even wanted to have relationships in the first place. A week ago thoughts like this would have had him running scared. She made him feel fearless.

She turned over, slipping her arms around him and kissing him on the mouth. Sleepy, sweet kisses that stole his breath and made his heart slam uncontrollably against his chest. He might have just stayed in bed kissing her forever if she hadn't pulled back and asked a question. "How did things go with your father? Did you work things out?"

Draco barked a laugh and rolled over onto his back, his earlier anxiety returning like a gale force wind and buffering against him. Hermione didn't seem to mind. She rolled over, too, propping herself up on one arm, giving him another soothing sweet kiss.

"Well," she prompted with her usual tenaciousness. The fact that she was in his arms, speaking in a sweet tone of voice, didn't change the fact that she was _Granger_. She would have her answers, even if she had to drag them out of him by his entrails. There it was, that grounding effect of hers that he had been missing earlier today. He could count on her not to change the game. To stay herself no matter what.

He skimmed a hand down her back, found the curve of her waist and splayed his fingers possessively there, holding her to his side. Compulsively kneading and flexing her skin, reaffirming her presence was real and solid and not some sort of figment. He was growing slightly lightheaded from breathing deeper than he exhaled, but she smelled so good in the enclosed space he couldn't seem to help himself.

"It's fine. We worked things out." He tried to kiss her again, distract her. And she let him nibble her lips for just a few seconds before pulling back again, all the leverage on her side.

"So, I'm invited to tea then? We will bond over scones, and Lucius Malfoy will tell me all the best gossip like we are best girlfriends."

Draco dragged a weary hand over his face, wondering why on Earth he had wanted to see her tonight. The fantasy of her was all girly smell and luscious kisses. The reality was an endless storm of questions he never wanted to answer. "Not exactly," he hedged, shifting a bit to bring her closer, pulling the tie from her hair and working to loosen her braid one twist at a time.

"Did you tell him it was no big deal, that I was just a dirty little shag?"

Draco focused back on her face, trying to read her emotions. Her voice was light and teasing, a silly little grin on her lips, but he knew her well enough now to realize that she was trying too hard to sound casual.

Snape had once advised that he not rely on the family code to do the right thing, but rather avoid doing things that would cause him shame. If it was something he would feel uncomfortable sharing with a teacher, priest, or his mother, then he probably shouldn't do it. At the time he'd rolled his eyes and carried on. Now he understood.

Draco most definitely did not want to tell Hermione the spin he'd put on things to his father. There was a downright unpleasant feeling swirling low in his middle, maybe it was guilt. He should have just declared that he'd date whomever he wanted. Instead, he had tried to get his father to approve by leveraging her position in society. He was an idiot for enjoying getting the upper hand on his father and not thinking ahead to the fall out.

He sighed dramatically, knowing he couldn't lie to her, and admitted it in a tight voice. Better the truth than thinking he had told his father that she didn't matter at all. "I told him that you were good for our reputation."

"He bought that?" she queried, skeptical. Merlin, she was adorable. So disheveled and sleepy eyed, quirking her brows at him, twisting her lips. He worked another strand of her hair loose, focusing on the soft silky strands running through his fingers, to distract him from his wayward thoughts that told him to pin her to the bed and kiss that pretty mouth breathless.

"I'm very charismatic," he declared, trying to be glib, and she frowned even deeper, pulling back, physically and emotionally.

"Is that still what this is?" He was screwing it up already. Draco sat up, following her to keep close. Come on, Draco, he berated himself silently, don't be an idiot. This isn't some brainless twit. This is Hermione Granger, and she can't be manipulated or charmed. He was dead tired. Wrecked from emotional upheaval. But he needed to keep it together. He'd almost ruined this once today; he wasn't going to do it again.

"No, it definitely is not." He cupped his hands around her pretty face, leaned in, and ghosted a soft kiss across her lips. Remembered the way she had looked as she told him she cared about him. Remembered the sweet way she had told him she wanted to be with him, too. He wasn't the one who needed to be reassured. She'd already done that, selflessly and bravely, and he needed to live up to her example.

"I also told him I might be in love with you and that I wasn't giving you up, no matter what," he admitted in a whisper, his face burning in embarrassment and his voice a little too fast to be dignified. "It was a Hell of a conversation."

He might have stumbled on, made more confessions, backtracked, fucked up some more, but she kissed him then, and it was a balm to his battered soul. Soft, sweet, sucking kisses that tasted like absolution and forgiveness and acceptance and all the things he'd never had.

* * *

Chapter Notes: A Big Thank you to the very talented LightofEvolution who went over this whole next section multiple times with me. So grateful for the feedback and the editing. Any mistakes are my own, I tend to tinker even after having something Beta read. 

The next chapter will included sex. I do consider it fairly mild smut, in keeping with the overall general fluffy feel of this story, but sex none the less. I feel it fits with the story line and is appropriate for the story, however I have constructed these last three chapters i am posting in such a way that you can skip chapter 22 and not miss any plot.

Feedback is adored. I can not tell you how many times I have gone back and read every single review this story has ever gotten and been motivated to continue.


	22. Indulgence

Draco indulged her gentle touch. Letting her take her time, nibble his lips, taste him with feather light touches of her tongue. This experience was to be savored, luxuriated in. Just him and his girl. Safe behind privacy curtains and a silencing charm with long hours stretching out before him where no one would be looking for them.

He managed to get the rest of her braid free so he could slide his fingers into her hair, and she sighed so sweetly into his kiss that his heart broke a little. The effect she had on him was painfully intense. He couldn't separate the dozens of feelings hammering his soul, scattered thoughts bouncing about in his skull, her scent and taste drenching him in sensation. It all coalesced into one overwhelming tempest that battered him from all sides. He just held onto her, both his port and his storm, and let the experience assault him.

It was magical.

He felt like such a sap. She made him want to confess soft feelings and give her promises and say sweet things to her. And he did. Between kisses that were lovely and decadent and sinful. He gave in to his fantasy, just a little, and twisted them, so he could push her into the mattress. Covering her body with his, sliding one leg between her slender thighs. He couldn't help the shudder that went through him when she rolled her hips in response.

His focus spiraled down and he couldn't help himself. He pushed his hips against her, creating that slow burn friction that made him tremble with want. Desire tripped down his spine, rocketing all his senses into overdrive, and he tried to pull back, gain some semblance of control. Hermione was having none of it though. She wrapped one leg around his hips, pinning him to her, even as she boldly slipped a hand underneath his shirt to run silky fingers up his back.

Fuck control.

Her skin was just as soft and warm as he remembered, and it felt downright forbidden to push his hand down her silly fuzzy pajamas to palm her ass and show her how to rock into him just right. The little scrap of silky panties she had on felt almost non-existent. It took all his restraint not to rip himself away from her so he could take a look and see. Instead, he relied on his sense of touch, to squeeze and caress and move them aside so he could get a handful of bare cheek.

He devoured her with kisses. Slipping his tongue inside, rocking in time with the slow thrusts of it. Kissing her jaw, her ear. She arched her back a bit, giving him access to the lovely long column of her throat, and he savaged the tender skin there with gentle nips and sucking kisses that left a trail of red splotches. And she fucking let him. She only pulled back long enough to claw his undershirt over his head so she could get at bare skin, and then she was wrapped right back around him.

She never even hesitated when he clumsily started pawing at her clothes, wanting more bare skin, more sweet places to kiss. She went with it when he shoved her pajama bottoms down past her panties so he could have better access to her lovely round ass. She shifted, shimmied, used her feet to kick them off, and he was aware things were moving too fast, even as he reveled in the feel of naked thighs spread open for him.

He couldn't help it. He was too far gone to care. All that mattered was getting rid of any obstacle that was between him and her skin. He was shoving her shirt up and off and burying his face in her tits before his stupid brain could stop him. Not quite a handful but just the right size to nip and nuzzle and lick and kiss and how on Earth could this be a bad thing when she was sighing and trembling and bucking her hips up to meet him?

He knew she was a virgin. That she needed more time, more foreplay, but she wasn't stopping him, and he didn't seem to have the willpower to stop himself. He was desperate to touch her, kiss her _everywhere_. He dragged his heavy hands over every inch of her, aware he was using more enthusiasm than technique but unable to slow down, be gentle. He knew his touch was too rough, that he was pushing his hard cock up against her relentlessly, that he was never going to get a second chance to have a first time with her, and it needed to be good...she was just so intoxicating.

He was literally lightheaded and dizzy.

He pulled back to catch his breath and his thoughts, and Hermione opened her eyes and stared back at him, panting in a very becoming way. His ego swelled inside his chest, and he couldn't help but smile at her. Lips red and swollen from his kisses, her breath coming nice and fast, her cheeks flushed with desire. _He_ had done that. He had brought her to such a state.

"Maybe we should wait." His voice was gravelly and tight, but at least honest. He supposed this is what old ladies meant when they said a good woman made an honest man out of you. He did not have any fleeting desire to lie to her.

"You had better not make me wait anymore, Draco Malfoy," she practically growled before reaching up and dragging his head down to her again so she could kiss him some more, while at the same time grabbing his hand and shoving it down her knickers.

Well _fuck_.

He didn't know why her boldness astonished him. She was the type of girl who knew what she wanted and went after it. Completely different in every way from any other person he had ever met. Her enthusiasm was refreshing and exciting, and he didn't hesitate to slide his hand down further into her knickers, caress her curls.

He slipped a finger between soft silky lips and found her slippery and swollen, and she shuddered as he moved his hand back and forth, rubbing and caressing. She moaned against his lips, bucked her hips, and he pushed a finger inside just to feel it swallow him. Velvet smooth and welcoming.

He pulled away from her mouth, bracing his forehead against hers so he could concentrate on the feel of her as he pushed deeper, pulled out a bit, only to be sucked back in. She twisted and wiggled beneath him, getting her hands between them so she could attack his trousers, and he shifted to help her getting naked as soon as possible so he could go back to touching her.

Her lovely skin slid up against him as she flexed, setting him on fire everywhere she touched, and he scooted back, getting to his knees so he could get those tiny silky white knickers off of her. She'd already divested him of pockets, and now he had nowhere to stash the panties, so he tucked them under his pillow, vowing to keep them as a souvenir. If she wanted him, then he would give her what she wanted, starting with his tongue.

He hadn't done it before, had never really wanted to, but there was nowhere on her he didn't want to kiss and touch and taste. And he'd read somewhere it helped virgins relax. Before he lost his nerve, he cupped her ass in his hands and dived in mouth first.

Everywhere was a lickable surface, and he wasted no time placing open mouthed, sucking kisses on every part of her. Sucking her juicy lips, licking between her folds, finding her clit and giving it special attention. Her flavor was just a little tangy, a little tart, and pleasant enough, but the sound of her pleasure was what made his cock throb.

She whimpered. Actually whimpered. And trembled, and wiggled. He experimented with gentle suction and got out loud moans that made him twitch. Tried a steady rhythm and was rewarded with shudders and grinding. Much more and he was going to cum on his sheets.

"You've got to come now, Hermione. I'm not going to last eight seconds inside you," he admitted, his voice hoarse and desperate, using a finger to further stimulate her, as he dragged his tongue nice and firm over her clit again the way she seemed to like.

"I don't know how," she whispered, even as she writhed against his hand, her body seeking satisfaction.

"Just relax and let it happen," he breathed against her skin, kissing trembling thighs, settling back in. He found himself moving in time to breathy moans and cries, letting her set the pace, and it was only a hot, wet minute before her hips were jerking like crazy and she was coming undone for him.

Her legs fell open bonelessly, and he rested for a few moments on her thigh, cleaning himself up a bit with a corner of his sheet and petting and squeezing her thighs.

"Inside, Draco." She was grabbing his hair, pulling him up her body, kissing his lips. Nips and sucks and rolling tongue. She was just the right height that, when he settled down between her legs, his cock was pressed directly up against her swollen, freshly licked, slippery sex. Merlin, he was likely to jackhammer her rather than make love to her at this point. He was so hard it was painful, and he couldn't help but grind his hips.

She spread her legs a little further apart, and he encouraged her heels around his hips, reaching down between them to get the right angle. He just needed to go slowly, be careful, not lose control. Looking down on her, naked and wanting beneath him, got him no closer to any of those goals. "Draco…" she whispered, wiggling against him, and he nudged a bit, sliding his cock around, wetting it up and down her slit before pushing inside.

Slow, Draco, go slow, he chanted to himself, even as she sucked him into her velvet heat. She tensed a little, and he pulled his hips back a bit before sliding in a bit more, tight and slippery and wet. It took every ounce of self control he'd ever tapped into not to just bury himself balls deep. This was definitely a form of Chinese torture. He rocked a bit more, a little deeper, biting his lip hard enough to taste blood.

"You okay?" he asked, going a little deeper, wetting just a little bit more, his cock super sensitized, throbbing at the feel of her around him.

"Yes," she panted back at him, moving her hips suddenly, encouraging him, starting up that slow rolling motion he had taught her that he liked. He rocked with her, trying to go slow, trying not to just rut into her mindlessly, kissing the side of her mouth, breathing in her breath. "I'm okay, Draco, just don't hold back."

He let out a strangled laugh; she had no idea. He definitely needed to hold back this tide of lust, or he would scare her to death.

Then she did that Hermione thing, where she just surprised the Hell out of him and left his mind spinning. She braced her heels on his ass and pushed up and took him all in at once. She let out a sharp intake of breath, and he felt the slight pressure of forcing himself in, but then there was nothing but the feel of her and the sound of her strangled gasp in his ear.

Fuck Fuck _Fuck_. He needed to speak, needed to say _something._ But he couldn't. All he could do was throb and twitch and hold back from mindlessly ploughing the girl.

"I'm okay, Draco," she whispered again in his ear, her soft voice grounding him, keeping him from spinning off into mindless lust. "Don't hold back. I want to feel you move."

Like he'd ever deny her anything. He rolled his hips against her. He was dying. What goes in must come out, and the slow warm suck of her felt like Heaven. He breathed in her scent and the feel of being enveloped in her arms as he rocked and rolled and thrusted slow, and deep, and steady.

He wasn't going to last. It was mind numbingly good, and she was rocking those sinful hips with him, holding him close, saying his name. Telling him she wanted him to let go. He was never going to let _her_ go. He was going to keep her forever.

A handful of moments, or seconds, or years later he was losing all control, thrusting deep, and whispering an apology as lighting raced through his veins. He clung to her, chanting her name like a prayer, clutching her like the salvation she was, emptying his pleasure into her until all that was left was shaking limbs and whispered devotion and exhaustion.

* * *

All praise to the lovely lightofevolution who edited this chapter :)


	23. Full Circle

Thirst was what woke her. She forced her mind awake and glanced about their tiny enclosed space for a drink. She was fairly pleased to see a sparkling glass of water on the bedside table and twisted slowly to sit up enough to drink it and still not wake Draco. With her dry mouth quenched, she settled back into his warm embrace and let her mind drift.

The night before had been wonderful. Both more and less than she had expected. More in that it was so good, less in that it was not at all awful. She'd done her reading and heard other girls' horror stories. Yes, there had been some pain, some uncomfortable fullness, a little blood. But it was hardly the traumatic experience she had worried about. Overall, it had been physically pleasant, especially if one counted Draco's efforts to make sure it was good for her before the actual act...which definitely counted in a big wonderful way.

The last several days with Draco had clued her into the fact that physical acts with him were also emotional experiences, but she hadn't really been prepared for the awesome power of bringing him to his fall. For a few, uncharted moments, he'd been so completely unguarded, twisted up in want and desire, no barrier between them.

She'd never felt so wanted, so cherished, so close to anyone in her life. She didn't know if it was always like that, but she could definitely understand how girls fell so deeply in love with a boy after they slept with one. How could she not love him? Trembling against her, clutching her like she was the second coming of Christ, declaring love and devotion and forever in broken half words as she held him, stroking his sweat slick skin, giving him reassuring kisses… Jesus, it had been intense.

She couldn't wait to repeat the experience for comparison. Especially since he had gone to such effort to hold back for her, trying to be gentle and careful. What would it be like when he didn't hold back? When she got more experienced? The anticipation had her pressing her thighs together with tingling anticipation and wondering the time. She reached for her wand, murmuring a spell, and frowning in disappointment. If she woke Draco right now, they would need to hurry to make it to breakfast on time.

She snuggled in a little deeper, determined to enjoy the warmth of being cuddled for just five more minutes, but she heard the other people in the room stirring, and it was completely ruining her ability to relax. She had intended to be up early to slip out of the Slytherin dorms before everyone else was awake. Now she was going to have to wait till the room cleared out and was probably going to miss breakfast. The downside of sneaking into the Slytherin dorms was definitely the sneaking out.

Draco stirred against her, kissing her skin, stroking her hip. Nothing was disturbing his morning. Her irritation went up a notch when he began to casually fondle her breasts. She'd already determined there wasn't time for that, so all he was doing was teasing. She shifted his hands off her and turned to speak with him.

The sleepy smile on his lips had her downshifting to annoyed affection quite effectively. A murmured good morning and a sweet loving good morning kiss had her slipping right back into warm and fuzzy bliss. Who cared if she missed breakfast? What were pancakes compared to this? Instead, she spent long minutes being loved on and cherished while time slipped away.

"Hey, the boys will clear out of here pretty quick, and we can take the secret passage to the prefects' bath if you want." He punctuated this problem-solving plan with a nuzzling kiss to her shoulder, another to her neck. "If we hurry, we might even be able to make breakfast. Did you bring your uniform with you?"

"You have a secret passageway to the prefect bath? Gryffindors have to trek through five public hallways and two sets of stairs!" His smug laughter was so annoying.

* * *

 

Freshly showered and wearing a pilfered uniform that Draco had grabbed from the Slytherin girls dorm, Hermione felt fairly confident that no one would be any the wiser to what she had gotten up to the night before. A downed contraceptive potion from the cabinet in the prefects' bath easing more urgent worries. Not that she was ashamed or anything, though she did give Malfoy a scolding when she had to charm half a dozen red splotches on her neck. He was not to chew on her like an animal.

Draco sticking right by her side as they left the bathroom and made their way to breakfast though was a clear shout of togetherness that would be hard to mistake. Hermione didn't care. She was just relieved that he didn't seem to be having any second thoughts. Besides, apparently, they were old news in the Hogwarts halls because no one even slowed down to gawk.

"I think the professor is finally going to get around to doing new partners assignments in Astronomy. Still want to be my partner?" Hermione asked, holding his hand and grinning like a loon. She felt ridiculously happy.

"I don't know, what's in it for me?" Hermione giggled out loud, reminded of their original deal.

"A passing grade."

"I don't need you to pass. I can score a stellar grade without having to put up with your stupidly detailed, over achieving project notes" Malfoy drawled at her, his light tone holding none of the malice required for his words to sting.

"My projects are designed to demonstrate understanding of the subject beyond the required curriculum. You might be satisfied with a mediocre passing grade, but I intend to land an Outstanding on my NEWTs," she sniped back at him, fighting a stupid grin as he teased her. Someone careened into their space, and Draco twisted to pull her closer, out of the way, even as he responded.

"How is doing an in-depth study on light refraction going to help on your NEWTs? It's completely outside of the curriculum and a waste of time. Unless you plan on specializing in Astronomy after school, there is no reason to work so hard to impress mid-level swots at the exam boards and some nobody teacher you will probably never speak to again."

"I am not trying to impress people! My only reward for the pursuit of knowledge is the actual knowledge itself."

"Do your dim-ass friends actually buy that? It's so obvious that you love being considered the brainiest person in the room."

"It is not! I love knowledge for knowledge sakes!"

Harry and Ron joined them from a side corridor just then, and Harry jumped on the chance to tease her about her academics. "Malfoy does have a point, Hermione. Just last week you wrote an extra sixty inches on the properties of bloomstang for Potions. You've known all about bloomslang since second year; it's not like there is anything extra to learn about it."

"The application of bloomslang is a fascinating and detailed subject," she declared snottily, bumping Harry hard enough with her hip for him to miss a step, and she let a giggle escape.

"Nothing you do is going to impress Snape; I don't know why you bother," Ron chimed in with an aggressive eye roll that had her feathers ruffled in a hot second.

"Ronald Weasley, you take that back right now! I am not trying to impress Snape!" She pushed open the Great Hall doors with a huff.

"Trying, and failing. Just because he is a teacher doesn't mean he is right!" The same old, tired, familiar argument about respecting teachers started up, and Hermione was thrilled to be back on such solid ground with the boys, even if Malfoy was taking their side.

They reached their seats for breakfast, and Malfoy casually sat down with them, arguing good naturedly with Harry about her study habits, and Hermione realized that they were being watched. She glanced around the room and saw dozens of pairs of eyes flit off in another direction. She was relieved and pleased to note that it didn't bother her one bit.

They were probably starting a dozen rumors about her relationship right now. Harry and Ron were probably being dragged into the mess because they were all sitting together. Hell, by tomorrow the rumor might be that she was sleeping with all three boys. She couldn't find a bone in her body that cared.

She turned back to her boys, filled with the warm glow of affection and contentment. She'd survived the storm and figured out how to navigate the rough waters. This little adventure with Malfoy had given her a glimpse behind the curtains and the power of gossip and public opinion had lost its sway over her. They could think whatever they wanted, they could say whatever they wanted...it wasn't better than the truth.

She laid her head down on Draco's shoulder, stiffening a yawn and planning her day. His arm coming up around her to cradle her hip as he piled some bacon on her plate felt natural and sweet and she gave him a sleepy smile. If she rearranged things properly she could probably get a nap in after third period. One thing was for damn sure, she was going to have to figure out how to get more sleep.

 

The End

* * *

 

End Notes:

This story is dedicated to my amazing readers. The amazing people who left me dozens of encouraging reviews, the hundreds of people who sent me e-mails and private messages, and the thousands of people who just read and enjoyed. Some of you stuck with me for 13 years. I certainly would have never finished this story without the positive encouragement I have received from the Harry Potter fandom.

A special thank you to all of the people who have helped me with this work over the last 13 years. 1Lorett, my very first cheerleader who invited me into the fandom and made me feel like family. RahNee, who helped me work on my softer side and helped me learn to translate my weird sense of humor to dialog, Reetinkerbell for running the awesome Dangerous Liasons awards…they were so encouraging for me, Kyra4 who taught me to respect my art and not let the haters discourage me, morningsnow03 who helped me pick up the pieces and face my anxiety after my long hiatus, and lightofevolution who saw me through to the end.

All my love,

Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This story was started in May of 2005 on ff. I am cross-posting it here as I have come to really love this site's wonderful author/review interaction features and cross-posting is a good idea. May 2005 was Pre-HBP. This story was started and planned out before HBP or Deathly Hallows. With that in mind the Draco/Lucius interactions and decisions may be a little OOC. This story pretty doesn't confirm or deny, just ignores.


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